A Wolf at the Door
by Spike Speigel1
Summary: The crime lab gets a wake up call when they become the focal point of a new case. Sequel to No Surprises. Part VI now up.
1. I

Title: A Wolf at the Door

Author: Spike Speigel

E-mail:

Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.

Spoilers: Everything before Viva Las Vegas. Sequel to _No Surprises_.

Summary: The crime lab gets a wake up call when they become the focal point of a new case.

Status: Finished

* * *

"Baby, please. I'm sorry."

Bob Miller is standing in the pouring rain talking on a dripping wet cell phone outside a nondescript coffee shop because he's trying his best to apologize to his girlfriend. She's angry with him because he misheard her about their dinner plans with her parents. Innocently enough, Bob thought the dinner was supposed to be tomorrow when in reality it was roughly four hours ago. The only reason he receives Mary Donnell's phone call is because he left his book to get another muffin which are inconveniently placed near the shop window. Lucky for Bob, he gets one bar on his cell phone, just enough for the text message to be received.

Unfortunately, he now has to stand in the torrential rain to apologize to Mary. It was a simple mistake. He's very sorry. She believes him but she's just stringing him along because she wants him to feel bad. They'll make up tonight once he gets home. After all, the sex is usually better after a fight, as ridiculous as it sounds. Simply because Bob feels as though he has to make up for his prior mistake.

However, unbeknownst to Mary, this is the last time she'll talk to Bob. In turn, the last thing Bob Miller hears is shattering glass. However, he hears it after he feels the explosion in his head. The last thought that goes through Bob Miller's mind is he's sorry he missed out on the dinner. Unfortunately for Bob, he doesn't hear Mary screaming into the phone, nor the people in the coffee shop screaming as well.

* * *

"Got a through and through." Grissom continued to narrate his discoveries to Brass, Warrick and Catherine patrolling the periphery of the coffee shop for anything that might be useful. The rain had lessened some, but still at a volume to be considered a nuisance. "Bullet might have gone inside the store."

"Hold on, I'll go check."

Grissom nodded absently at Brass, his focus still on Bob Miller's body. A makeshift tent had been placed above the body, but by the time they got out there, the body was essentially waterlogged, any chance of getting anything meaningful all but pointless. All they had at the moment was the absent bullet. That, and whatever Warrick and Catherine might turn up, highly unlikely at that. Grissom picked up the cell phone next to the corpse, scrolling through the call list. Nothing suspicious about the numbers, most labeled with a name. However, it was too early to tell at that point. Hodges could follow up on the list to see if anything out of the ordinary popped up.

He rose from his kneeling stance, brushing his knee absentmindedly even though he was soaked to the bone. Walking toward the coffee shop, he finds Brass examining the area near the shattered glass from the widow pane. "Any luck?"

Brass shook his head, a hint of fatigue in his voice. "Wherever it landed, it didn't do it here. And you're sure it's just the one shot?"

"That'll have to wait until he gets onto Robbins' table. But based on the entry wound in his head, I'd say the shot came from up above."

"Rooftop?"

Grissom looked out into the night, moonlight beginning to break through the cloud cover. "Looks like we've got a possible sniper in our midst."

"Perfect. Exactly what this city needs."

Brass moved to his feet, stepping away from the pile of glass. At that moment, Warrick and Catherine walked into the coffee shop, frustration evident. Grissom greeted them as he always did, short and to the point. "Anything?"

Warrick shook his head, partly to expunge some water from his hair, partly to answer. "Nada. If anything was there, rain's washed it away."

Catherine followed his lead, but instead of a slight shake, she tousled her hair as though it was akin to a bobble head. "It's like the perp knew exactly when to pull the trigger. Not much worse scenarios to collect evidence in."

"But, why this guy?"

Grissom answered Warrick's question, curiosity evident in his voice. "That is the question. Cath, I want you to use the metal detector. There's a chance our bullet's somewhere in here." Catherine nodded, making her way back outside and to the parked Tahoe. "Warrick, Jim. We're going roof jumping."

Warrick spoke, a hint of concern in his voice. "You don't mean literally, do you?"

Grissom simply walked past him, Brass looking on as the head CSI left the shop. "Let's go, just in case he is. He might need one of us to catch him." Both men shared a small chuckle before following Grissom out into the rain.

* * *

Sara gently traced circles upon Grissom's chest, each circle concentric to the previous one. Her head remained nestled against his shoulder as her legs entwined with his, her nude body pressed against his. She never told him, but she enjoyed just laying next to him while he was sleeping. Sure, she enjoyed the sex (God, the sex!). But, just laying next to him, hearing his heart beat against her ear. It was soothing in a way. The rhythmic pulse, the rise and fall of his chest. It somehow made it all the more real to her. Because, she never thought she'd ever get this close to him.

So, that's why she treasured these moments, just grazing her finger idly against his warm flesh. Because she could. It was intoxicating in a way, being able to be this free with him. It had been almost three months since Grissom revealed his feelings for her. And now, here they were, in his townhouse. He wasn't surprised to see her when he got home now. Instead, he was happy. Grissom, happy. Before, she didn't really know Grissom to be a happy person. But now. Now…

"Can't sleep?"

She felt his arm reach down her side before wrapping around her waist. Sara made no move to look up at him, instead remaining focused on the finger moving about his naked chest. "Not really."

He placed a tender kiss in her hair, his speech muffled. "Wanna talk about it?"

Sara sighed against his chest, her finger stopping. "It's okay. Go back to sleep, Gil."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you've piqued my curiosity. And now my mind's racing, thinking about what's going on in your head."

Sara placed a small kiss against his chest before speaking. "It's stupid. You don't want to hear it."

"How can you be so sure? I haven't even heard it, so how could I even know that I don't want to hear it. You see the conundrum I'm in, don't you?"

"Stop thinking, Gil. Before you give yourself a headache."

His fingers gently stroked her hair, his voice soft yet serious. "Tell me, Sara. I promise, I won't think it's stupid."

Sara remained still, her eyes gazing off into the depths of the bedroom. She hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I keep having this dream. I guess you could call it a nightmare. But…"

"But what?"

"It's stupid, really."

"And here I thought I was the one that had trouble talking." He could feel Sara's smile against his skin, his thumb gently massaging the base of her neck. "Do I have to force this deep, dark secret out of you? Because, I have ways of making you talk."

Sara laughed softly, her palm now pressed against his chest. "I have this dream that we're together."

"So far, so good."

"Shh. I'm trying to talk." She felt the chuckle resonate in his chest as she continued. "Anyway, we have this perfect life. And I'm happy. I mean really happy. The kind of happy that you only see in fairy tales and those cheesy romantic comedies. But then…"

"Then what, honey?" She remained silent, as though she's not sure whether to continue the explanation or not for fear of his reaction. "Sara?"

"I wake up. I wake up and you're not here. You're not here and it's all been a terrible, cruel dream, us being together. And…yeah…" She looked up at him, a sheepish grin on her face. "See, told you it was stupid." And as quickly as she looked up at him, she turned away, afraid to see his reaction.

She can feel his hands on her sides, pulling her body up to meet his. Their eyes meet, both gazing into the other for what feels like an eternity. Before Sara can react to what's happening, Grissom places a delicate kiss against her forehead.

"Does that feel like a dream?" She shakes her head, their eyes still locked in their gaze. His lips move to her cheek, another tender kiss placed against her silken skin. "How about that?" Another shake. His mouth slowly grazes her lips, teasing her as he keeps his lips a hair's width away from her. She can feel the heat emanating from Grissom, Sara's breath catching in her throat. "Do you feel this?"

Sara speaks in a whisper, her eyes now closed, focusing on the sensation of Grissom's lips gently moving against her own. "Yes."

His voice is now deep and husky even though he speaks in a hushed voice. "What does that feel like to you?"

She doesn't hesitate, her hands on either side of his face. "Tomorrow." Her mouth is now on his, their kiss tender yet passionate. She relishes the touch, the taste of the man in her hands. She moans as his hands slide down her waist, pulling her close to him. She pushes him down to the bed, her trepidation quickly subsiding. There's no doubt in her mind now as she feels him under her, inside her. This is the man she's going to grow old with, nightmares be damned.

* * *

Robbins removed the sheet from Bob Miller's body, folding the edge when the sheet reaches his shoulders. Grissom examined the victim's face, no hint of emotion apparent.

"Your initial guess was right. See the entry wound, how it's not parallel to the head?" Grissom nodded slightly. "Based on the angle of entry, this was done above ground. As for the height, I'd guess somewhere between ten and twenty feet. But, that's just a rough estimate. Computer simulation should be able to give you a more accurate number."

"Any chance you found the bullet in the body?"

Robbins shook his head, pulling the sheet further down the body until it reached the torso. "I played a hunch that the bullet might have ricocheted back into the body. However, I was partly right." Robbins lifted the lifeless body slightly, indicating to Grissom to move closer. Once Grissom moved to the other side of the table, Robbins continued his narrative. "See the slight discoloration near the small of the back?"

"Bruise from the fall?"

"That's what I thought at first, but from the photos you gave me, Mr. Miller was found on his left side, knees bent. If he were lying prone, I'd discount it as bruising. But, the discoloration's more to the center of his back."

"So, you're telling me what?"

"Your bullet ricocheted off the glass and against the small of his back. It's got faint residue. I'm guessing the way his body was oriented after the fall shielded the area from the rain. Which also means the bullet should have been in close proximity of the body."

Grissom nodded, a thought emerging. "Anything else odd about our Mr. Miller?"

"Other than the bullet wound and bruise, nothing in particular."

"Thanks, Doc. Let me know if you find anything else."

"Will do."

* * *

"Alright people, I'm pulling everyone off their cases. The coffee shop shooting is top priority as of now. There's a chance this may get worse before it gets better." Grissom looked over his group, deciding the best avenue of investigation. There wasn't much to go on in the first place, but if Grissom knew anything about serial killers, they rarely waited for an encore performance. "Warrick, Catherine, I want you two to follow up on the rooftops surrounding the area. There's a chance we might have missed something the first time. Nick, I want you and Greg to follow up with Hodges on the cell phone. Find out if Mr. Miller had anyone that didn't think too highly of him." Nick was about to object about taking Greg along, but thought better of it since Grissom shot him a preemptive glance. "Sara, you're with me. We're going back to that building and we're not leaving until we find that bullet." Sara nodded slightly, silence beginning to settle.

Fortunately, the silence quickly dissipated when a cell phone began to chime. Grissom looked at his group, a hint of annoyance on his face. However, when no one made a move to answer his or her phone, he absentmindedly pulled his cell from his jacket pocket. Sure enough, it was his. He looked at the number, not recognizing it. Now was definitely a bad time for a wrong number.

Grissom flipped the phone open, speaking tersely. "Grissom."

Unfortunately for Grissom, it wasn't a wrong number. "Still haven't found the bullet?"

Grissom held the phone tighter, unsure of what to make of the question. "I'm sorry?"

"Must be driving you crazy. A dead body, but no evidence. I know, maybe it was a magic bullet. Made its way from Kennedy right to good ol' Bob."

Grissom continued, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Can I assume you're the one responsible for his current condition?"

"Let's say yes, shall we?"

"In that case, how do you know that we didn't recover the bullet?"

"Because I picked it up after I shot him through the head. All those panicked people, scattering like so much flotsam. It's rather funny how simple it was." Catherine began to motion at Grissom, seeing his countenance beginning to change. Grissom waved his hand at her, trying to focus on the conversation at hand. The remainder of the group looked on, knowing that his conversation had taken a serious turn. "I would be worried about leaving something behind, but I think the water pretty much washed away my sins, wouldn't you say?"

"Why Mr. Miller?"

The answer was succinct, yet disturbing. "Because he was there. C'mon. You think I'd do all this if he was screwing my ol' woman? I'm nuts. Out of my gourd, you could say."

"Crazy people are crazy because they deny that they are."

The voice on the other end of the phone chuckled heartily, playfulness evident. "You got me there, doc. I'm not crazy. I'm just eccentric."

"So, are we going to talk like a couple of old buddies, or was there a reason for this call?"

"Right to the point. Very well." The voice paused, contemplating his next words. "It's a game. I've made my opening move, and so have you."

Grissom's brow furrowed, not exactly following. "What are you…"

"Already covered the scene. Couldn't find me. Not that I made it easy on you."

"Well, if you know anything about me and my people, we're the best in the country. We'll find you eventually."

The voice chuckled once again, the casualness of his tone beginning to disturb Grissom. "Well, that's why we play the game. Let's see how good a player you are. Oh, and since you couldn't find anything your first time out, I'll give you another chance."

"Another chance?"

The man laughed softly into the phone, his words reflecting the seriousness of the situation. "I've just made another move."

Grissom tensed, a feeling of disquiet overcoming him. "Where?"

Another chuckle. "Not as far as you'd think. Oh, by the way, love what you did you Bob. Tell Doctor Robbins that his y-incision is a thing of beauty, will you?"

Grissom could feel the fear overcoming him, his mind beginning to put the pieces together. "How do you know Robbins?"

The voice answered calmly, his message curt yet unsettling. "Man down, Sherlock." Before Grissom could respond, the line went dead, Grissom dropping the phone onto the table. Before anyone could query about the phone call, Grissom makes his way out of the break room, his legs not moving as fast as he'd like them to. He doesn't realize that he's struggling to breathe as he runs toward the morgue. Instead, he prays that he isn't right.

Grissom pushes the morgue doors open, looking around for Robbins. He calls out, but doesn't get an answer. Grissom moves cautiously, further into the room, pulling his gun from the holster. He turns quickly to the noise behind him, lowering his gun when he sees Warrick and Nick standing in the doorway. Then another noise.

It sounds of liquid, of desperation. That's when he notices it. There was only one body before. Grissom walks toward the second table, hesitantly pulling the sheet away. The sight takes him aback. The blood, so much blood. Grissom turns around, the emotion evident in his voice. "Call an ambulance! Now!"

Nick pulls out his cell phone, visibly shaken by the sight of Robbins on the cold steel table. However, he manages to punch in the numbers, his voice urgent as he speaks to the operator. Warrick moves closer to the table, Grissom checking for a pulse and barely finding it. That's when he notices the object underneath Robbins' head.

"Warrick, I need a glove."

Warrick pulls a pair from the box sitting next to the Miller corpse. He hands them to Grissom, Grissom grabbing one, the other falling to the wayside. He places the glove onto the foreign object before pulling it away from the table.

Grissom holds it up to the light, slightly blood spattered. He doesn't open the envelope. Instead, he focuses on the font gracing the front of the envelope, a sensation of trepidation overcoming him. There are only two words on the envelope, but the two that are chosen have their user's intended effect.

**ONE DOWN…**

_To be continued_


	2. II

Title: A Wolf at the Door

Author: Spike Speigel

E-mail:

Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.

Spoilers: Everything before Viva Las Vegas. Sequel to _No Surprises_.

Summary: The crime lab gets a wake up call when they become the focal point of a new case. Part II.

Status: Finished

* * *

All of the CSIs had wanted to go to the hospital to be at Robbins' side after he had been brutally assaulted in the morgue. However, Grissom wouldn't allow it. There had been a crime committed in his house. And, right now, he wanted answers. So, while his people began processing the lab, Grissom drove to the hospital to meet up with Warrick who had ridden along with Robbins in the ambulance. Three hours later, and a doctor finally walked toward their general direction in the waiting room. Grissom and Warrick rose from their seats, Grissom querying the doctor.

"How is he?"

The doctor wiped his brow, not looking at Grissom as he spoke. "He's stable, but still critical I'm afraid. We managed to stop the bleeding, but he lost a lot of blood from his carotid. The lacerations he suffered across his back didn't help matters any, I'm afraid."

Confusion overcame Grissom, the doctor's words not making sense. "So, you're saying whoever attacked my doctor didn't mean to kill him?"

"Well, dismissing the fact that he would have bled out had you not found him, I'd have to say no. The cuts on the back were superficial at best, and the cut along the neck was shallow enough to allow for a slow bleed. So, either Doctor Robbins' assailant didn't mean to kill him, or he wanted him to die slowly."

Grissom nodded, the news not assuaging his fears any. Warrick finally spoke, emotion evident in his voice. "Can we talk to him?"

The doctor shook his head slightly, looking down at his pager, which had begun to beep incessantly. No doubt he was needed for another patient. "I'm sorry. He's still not out of the woods yet. Until his red blood count returns to normal, Doctor Robbins will have to remain here for the interim." The doctor looked up at Grissom and Warrick, an apologetic tone in his voice. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. We'll let you know if his condition changes."

Warrick spoke, Grissom nodding slightly. "Thanks." As the doctor made his way from the men, Warrick turned to Grissom, who remained lost in thought. "So, where do you want to start?"

Grissom didn't look up as he spoke. "I need to know who got into the morgue."

"Nick's already going over the security tapes from today. I'm sure he'll turn up something."

Grissom began to walk down the hall, Warrick following suit. "Let's see if he's found anything yet."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Grissom. He's not on the tape."

Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before speaking. "You're telling me no one entered the room after I did?"

Nick turned back to the computer console, tapping at the keyboard. "It's not that, Griss. Here, take a look." Grissom and Warrick turned their attention to the computer monitor, watching the hallway camera to the morgue move backward in time. When Nick reached the appropriate point in the feed, he tapped another key. "It should happen right around here." Grissom was about to ask Nick what he was talking about. However, his question was answered once the shift in the image occurred. "You see it? Someone adjusted the camera so the morgue's out of view."

Grissom spoke, his voice somber. "Fingerprints?"

"Sara's processing them right now."

Warrick followed Grissom's train of thought, following up. "Anyone on the tape that isn't supposed to be there?"

Nick sighed, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Last time stamp has Grissom going into the lab and coming back out. Other than the people in the hallway, no one else made a bee line to the morgue."

Warrick finished Nick's thought. "Which means whoever it was must have come through the loading dock."

Nick nodded at Warrick. "Cath's out there right now."

Before Grissom could speak, Warrick answered him. "I'm on it."

Grissom nodded, Warrick walking out of the video processing room. He turned to Nick, his voice steady yet urgent. "See if you can find anything odd prior to the camera being moved."

"You got it." With that, Nick turned back to the computer console, his fingers moving fluidly over the keyboard.

Grissom stepped out of the room, his next stop Greg's lab. He needed some good news at this point. Anything to link the envelope to this madman. Grissom frowned slightly upon realizing that he was generalizing. For all intent and purposes, whoever was orchestrating this so-called game was someone that had planned two steps ahead of his people. A madman would have been more blunt in his attacks. But, these attacks were almost elegant, akin to a dance. One shot for Bob Miller, a few strategic cuts on Robbins. But why had he let Robbins live and not Miller? Grissom pushed the question away, realizing that he was nearing Greg's lab. However, before he could step in, Greg ran out into the hall to meet him. Apparently, he had something after all.

"Greg?"

"Grissom, I think we have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

Greg nodded his head toward the lab, Grissom following him inside. As Grissom looked on in interest, Greg held up the envelope found under Doctor Robbins' head. "Regular white envelope. No fingerprints evident. And the blood is all from…" Greg paused slightly, not sure how to convey his findings to Grissom. "Well, you know that part. Anyway, it's what I found inside the envelope that has me concerned."

Grissom crossed his arms about his chest, his curiosity piqued. "What did you find?"

Greg stumbled for his words before continuing. "A hair follicle. Skin tag and everything."

"You run it through CODIS?"

"Yep. No match." Grissom shook his head slightly, knowing that Greg was undoubtedly hiding something. "But, I got to thinking about what went down and that cryptic note on the envelope…"

"Greg, I don't have time for this. What did you find?"

Greg leaned closer to Grissom, his voice lowered as though he didn't want anyone else to know what he'd found. Grissom would find out soon that Greg was right about being cautious with his findings. "The hair? It's Warrick's."

Grissom stared at Greg for a moment, not entirely believing what he was hearing. "Are you sure?"

"Ran it three times. It matches with what's on file for Warrick." Greg moved back slightly, a hint of trepidation in his voice. "Grissom, how did that guy get Warrick's hair?"

Grissom answered truthfully. "I don't know." Grissom nodded his head slightly at Greg, visibly impressed with his technician. "Give the envelope one more pass and then head over to video processing. Nick could use help going through the security logs."

"Um, yeah. Sure thing." Grissom began to walk out into the hallway, but Greg's voice stopped him in his tracks. "Grissom?"

"Yeah, Greg?"

His voice was nervous, as thought he wasn't really sure of how to best frame his words. After a moment, Greg spoke. "Um, well. If this guy's got an agenda, shouldn't someone tell Warrick about what's going on? You know, just in case?"

Grissom had to smile at Greg's observation. He was, in fact, correct. Because, that's what Grissom had intended to do before Greg brought the point up. "I'll keep it in mind, Greg." Then, as an aside, "Good work." Greg tried to hide the smile from Grissom, but the corner of his lips gave him away. "Let me know if you find anything else before going to see Nick."

"You got it, boss man."

* * *

"Hey, Cath." Warrick pulled on the second latex glove before placing his kit next to hers. "Anything so far?"

"Too many prints on the doors. Too much debris outside." Catherine sighed, her forearm wiping her brow. "I've got too much everything and not enough time to process."

Warrick walked over to Catherine, gently squeezing her shoulder as he knelt down beside her. "We'll get this guy. Just step back for a bit and take a deep breath."

"A deep breath, huh?" Warrick nodded his head, a small smile evident. Catherine straightened herself so she was now eye level with Warrick. "Deep breath. Okay." And so she did. Oddly enough, she found herself beginning to relax. Another deep breath, this time Warrick breathing with her.

"Feel better?"

"A little. Thanks."

Warrick lazily smiled at Catherine before surveying the area. "Alright. So, where do you want me?"

"How about below the landing dock?"

Warrick nodded before leaping into the small cutout that allowed the various vehicles to deposit their cargo, usually of the deceased variety. "Can you pass my kit down here?" Catherine reached for it, holding it by the handle. Even though the latex glove was still on her hand, she could feel Warrick's gloved hand brush against hers, a feeling of embarrassment overcoming her. She smiled meekly at him, Warrick returning the gesture. "Thanks."

"No prob." As Warrick began to look around the parking area, Catherine spoke, a hint of worry in her voice. "So, how is he?"

Warrick continued to survey the area, not looking at her as he spoke. "Stable for now. Doctor said he'd call if his condition changes."

Catherine sighed, somewhat put at ease at the news. When Robbins had been moved from the morgue, he had been such a mess. The fact that he was stable was enough for her at the moment. "And Grissom thinks the Miller case and this are related?"

"Seems to be. Guy on the phone knew stuff about the Miller case that wasn't released to the press. Add to that him telling Grissom about Robbins, and you've got someone that's not playing with a full deck."

They didn't notice Grissom standing near the bay doors until he spoke. "Shouldn't underestimate this guy, Warrick. Clearly, he's a methodical person. Always dangerous, when you get right down to it."

Both CSIs turned toward Grissom, Catherine asking the obvious. "You find anything?"

"Warrick, pack your stuff up. There's a black and white out front waiting for you. They'll escort you home."

Before Warrick could ask about Grissom's request, Catherine interrupted. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Cath. We're just being cautious."

Her voice was more urgent now. "You found something, didn't you? Tell us."

Grissom furrowed his brow, unsure on how to proceed. Warrick pulled himself out of the cutout, moving toward Grissom as he spoke. "What's this about?"

"Greg found a hair in the envelope." He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "He matched the DNA."

Catherine stood up, now standing next to Warrick. "A lead?"

Grissom sighed, a hint of fatigue in his voice. "It's yours, Warrick."

A laugh escaped Warrick's lips, unsure on how to take this revelation. "You're kidding, right?" Grissom slowly shook his head, the subtle smile fading from Warrick's face. "Wait, so you're telling me whoever shot Bob Miller and assaulted Doc Robbins somehow got my hair, stuffed it in an envelope, and now I'm next on his hit parade?"

"You saw the message on the envelope, Warrick. I'm just trying to do my job. And right now it's keeping you out of harm's way."

The anger was evident in Warrick's voice as he spoke. "No, right now it's letting me do my job. What good is it gonna do Robbins if I'm placed under house arrest? You need me out here."

Catherine finally chimed in, her voice calm. "Go home, Warrick."

Both men turned to Catherine, Warrick speaking with a hint of surprise in his voice. "What?"

She looked at him, her voice quiet. "We can pick up the slack. No reason for you to be lying next to Al." Her voice wavered as she continued. "Please, Warrick. Go home."

He didn't mean to yell, to direct his anger at her, but that's what he did. "God, Cath. Of all people, I woulda thought you'd have my back."

"Warrick…"

"No, don't." He turned to Grissom, pulling his gloves off. "And I thought you'd have more faith in me."

Grissom spoke, sincerity in his voice. "It's not about faith. You know that."

"Whatever. You guys need me, I'll be home with a thumb up my ass." Before either could respond, Warrick pushed the bay doors open, disappearing into the building.

* * *

The locker door slammed shut, Sara sliding her arm into her jacket when she heard the voice from behind her.

"There you are. Been looking for you."

The corners of her mouth began to move upward, her other arm finding its destination. She pulled on the jacket collar to ensure her arms were sufficiently in before turning around. "Business or pleasure?"

"Sara, I thought we agreed…"

She waved him off, a small laugh escaping her lips. "I'm just teasing. What's up?"

Grissom couldn't help but smile back. They had a strict rule. Nothing personal while in the confines of the lab. However, he was finding that rule most difficult to follow since all he wanted to do at that moment was close the locker room door behind him and see where things went from there. Unfortunately, there wasn't time for that. Not with the case still open. "Pull any prints from the camera?"

"One set. A Jorge Mendoza. Works for the security company that installed the cameras. Long shot, but Brass and I are about to head over there and see if he knows anything."

Grissom nodded. "Good. Let me know if anything turns up."

"Will do." She walked over to him, eyeing him over. "You okay? You look like you're miles away from here."

"It's nothing you need to worry about." Sara tilted her head, giving him an inquisitive look. "Seriously, it's nothing."

Sara nodded slightly, standing directly in front of him now, mere inches from him. "Okay. I'll let it go. But, you've got to understand something."

Grissom furrowed his brow, unsure of where she was going with this. "Which is?"

"If something has you worried, it has me worried too. It's always been that way, and it's always going to be that way." Grissom smiled at Sara, his head lowered slightly. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay."

She gently squeezed his hand quickly before walking down the hallway toward the parking lot. Grissom looked on as she disappeared in the distance, his mind drifting back to his office. To the velvet box locked away in the bottom drawer. It had been three months. Catherine had told him to proceed slowly. After all, if anyone was the poster child for emotional ineptitude, it was Grissom. But still, the thought of taking the velvet box out of the drawer had begun to cross his mind more frequently. However, he didn't dwell on the thought. It could wait. Right now, closing the case was all that mattered.

* * *

He'd been home for a little over four hours and he was already going out of his mind. Actually, he'd lost it as soon as the patrol car parked in front of his place, but that was just semantics. Therefore, he did the only thing he could at a moment like this. He sat in front of his television and played Madden 2005. For four hours.

So, it came as something of a surprise when he heard the knock at the door. At first, he thought nothing of it. But, seeing as how he'd been sent home for precautionary reasons, Warrick reached for his service weapon sitting on the end table, pulling it out of its holster. He slowly walked toward the front door, gun against his hip. He looked through the peephole to see someone he didn't expect to see. Especially after today. He opened the door slowly, Catherine standing in his doorway, a brown bag in one hand, a Styrofoam tray with two beverages in the other.

"Hey. Busy?" Warrick shook his head, giving Catherine a quizzical look. An awkward silence remained in the air until Catherine spoke once more. "Mind if I come in then?"

"Um, no. I mean, yeah. Come in." He stepped away from the door, allowing Catherine to enter the premises. As she turned back around to look at him, Warrick closed the door, confusion still evident. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you might be hungry, so I picked us up a little something." Warrick leaned backward against the doorframe, a look of confusion evident. "Look, I just wanted to apologize for what went down earlier…"

"Don't worry about it. Grissom thinks it's best I'm under lock and key, I'll go with it. Doesn't mean I have to like it, but I'll go with it."

Catherine placed the contents in her hands onto the table adjacent to her before turning back to Warrick. "I didn't mean that. I meant the not having your back thing." Warrick was about to wave her off, but she interrupted him by continuing. "Any other case, I woulda been there for you. You know that. But after seeing Al, it's just…" She looked down for a moment before looking back at him, a nervous air about her. "Look, we're pretty much a family over in the lab, but it's always been different with us. You know stuff about me that I haven't told anyone else. Hell, you know me better than Grissom does, and he knows everything." She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. After an awkward silence, she continued. "I guess what I'm trying to say is…"

Warrick had a good idea about the point she was trying to get across, so he decided to let her off the hook. "Yeah, I know." They reciprocated smiles, Warrick glancing over to the paper bag. "Philly cheesesteak?"

"Two. With the works." She picked up the bag and cup holder, Warrick leading her to the dining area. She offered him another smile as she spoke. "Let's dig in before they get cold."

* * *

"So, did you finish processing the loading dock?"

Catherine nodded slightly before leaning back into the leather couch. She could feel the weight of the sandwich in her stomach, but it was worth it. It wasn't often she allowed herself to consume one of Tony's cheesesteaks, but tonight it seemed to be the thing to do. "Yep. Fingerprints off the doors are still running through the database. I'll check on those once I head back."

"How about the parking area?"

"Got an impression of some fresh tire tracks. Nothing out of the ordinary, though. All were ambulance class tires." At that moment, her cell phone began to ring. Catherine leaned forward, fishing the cell from her jacket that now resided on the coffee table. "Other than that, pretty much nothing." Warrick nodded at Catherine as he rose from the couch. He gathered up the plates from the coffee table, making his way to the kitchen while Catherine answered her phone. "Willows."

She'd never heard the voice on the other end before. However, Grissom had. "Hello, Catherine. How are you?"

Catherine's voice was tinted with an air of caution as she continued. "I'm sorry. Who is this?"

"Oh, I apologize. I'm being terribly rude." The voice continued, a hint of casualness evident. "I called earlier for Grissom. You might have seen my handiwork in the morgue."

Catherine could feel the hairs on her arms begin to stand up. "What did Robbins do to deserve what you did to him, you sick freak."

"Manners, Catherine. Or I won't let you speak to her."

Her voice wavered as she spoke. "What are you talking about?" She heard a slight rustle on the other end before the voice came back into range.

"Honey, come over here. I have someone that wants to talk to you."

Another slight rustle, and then the voice. "Mom?"

In a matter of seconds, the fear of God was instilled in Catherine, her voice frantic now. "Lindsey?"

"Mom, please come and get me. Please…"

"Lindsey?!?"

She could hear another bout of rustling, her breath caught in her throat. Then, the voice. "Don't worry, mommy. I haven't done anything to her." A slight pause before the voice spoke again. "Yet."

"Why are you doing this? Lindsey has nothing to do with this. Please, just let her go. You can take me. Just let her go. Please, for the love…"

"You're babbling now, Ms. Willows. It's not becoming of you."

"You son of a bitch."

"And what a mouth. Well, if that's your attitude, I guess we're done here."

She didn't realize she was practically screaming into the phone now until she saw Warrick standing in front of her, a worried look on his face. "No, wait! Please! Please. I'll do anything you want. Just…just don't hurt my daughter."

The voice chuckled softly before speaking. "Now, that's what I like to hear. See how much better a conversation can be when both parties are civil?" It took all of her willpower to stop from letting loose with the expletives as she bit her lip. "Now, pay attention, because I'm only going to say this once."

"Okay."

"McCarran International Airport. Departure level. One hour."

Catherine looked at Warrick, confusion evident in her voice. "I don't understand. You want to meet there?"

"In a manner of speaking." The voice paused for a moment before continuing. "A trade of sorts."

"What kind of trade?"

She could almost picture the person on the other end of the phone smiling as he spoke. "I give you Lindsey, and in return, you give me Warrick Brown." She could feel the gravity in the words now. "Come alone. Tell anyone other than Mr. Brown about this conversation, I'll kill Lindsey. I see anyone else other than you and Mr. Brown, I'll kill Lindsey. Are we clear?"

Her voice cracked as the tears began to cloud her vision. "Ye…yes."

"One hour, Catherine." The line went dead, Catherine still holding the phone next to her ear. She only stirred when Warrick kneeled next to her.

"Cath. What's wrong?"

Unfortunately for Warrick, she didn't know how to possibly begin to answer that question.

_To be continued_


	3. III

Title: A Wolf at the Door

Author: Spike Speigel

E-mail:

Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.

Spoilers: Everything before Viva Las Vegas. Sequel to _No Surprises_.

Summary: The crime lab gets a wake up call when they become the focal point of a new case. Part III.

Status: Finished

* * *

"Grissom, we might have a problem."

Grissom looked up from his desk, Nick standing in the doorway. "What's up, Nicky?"

"Might be nothing, but I can't get a hold of Catherine. Wanted to check out something from the tapes that Greg and I pulled up, but she's not answering her phone, home or cell."

"She might have just turned it off. She told me she was going to see Warrick during her dinner break." Grissom turned away from Nick, picking up his phone. He punched in some numbers, the receiver nestled in the crook of his neck. "Warrick's not answering either." He hung up the phone, picking it up almost immediately as he dialed another number. "Yes, operator. This is Gil Grissom over at the crime lab. Could you please connect me with the officers currently at Warrick Brown's residence? Thank you." Another moment. "Officer, this is Grissom over at the crime lab. Could you do me a favor and check the residence?"

"Sure thing, sir. But we haven't seen anyone enter or exit the house other than CSI Willows."

"She's there now?"

"Should be. Uh, hold on a second." Grissom could hear the officer knock on the door, his voice faint as he spoke. "Mr. Brown, it's Officer Gentry. Just want to know if everything's okay." Another knock. "Mr. Brown?" Grissom could hear the officer moving about now before another voice came into range. Then the officer spoke again. "On three. One. Two. Three!"

Grissom was startled when he heard the loud bang followed quickly by silence. "Officer?" Nothing. Grissom remained on the line, his thoughts beginning to get away from him, thinking the worse. However, his thoughts were interrupted by the officer's voice.

"I don't understand it, sir. But they're not here."

* * *

**  
Fifteen minutes ago.**

"Catherine, what's wrong?"

She looked at him, tears now streaming from her eyes. She pushed herself past him as she rose from the couch, frantically grabbing her jacket. As she frustrated herself with the sleeve, missing her target two times before sliding her arm through, she spoke. "He's got Lindsey."

"Who…?"

She didn't mean to snap at Warrick, but given the situation, she couldn't help herself. "You know who, dammit! Same sick bastard that cut up Robbins. He's got my Lindsey. He's got my…"

Warrick held her by the shoulders, trying to calm her down as he spoke. "Did he say what he wants?" She turned away, not wanting to look him in the eye. Unfortunately for her, Warrick gently touched her chin, moving her sight back in line with his. "Cath, talk to me. I can't help unless you tell me."

Her voice was stuttered between her sobs. "He…wants…"

"Yeah?"

She could feel her world falling apart. She didn't want to tell him, but he was her only hope of ever seeing Lindsey again. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "He wants…" She closed her eyes, as though this was all a bad dream, before continuing. "You. He wants you." She could feel Warrick's hands go limp as they pulled away from her. She opened her eyes once more to see Warrick standing in front of her, a look of disbelief on his face.

He hung his head slightly, his voice soft as he spoke. "So, how's this supposed to play out?"

Catherine remained still, her voice matching his own. "A trade at McCarran. You for Lindsey. Anyone else shows up, he'll kill her."

"When?"

"An hour from now."

Warrick remained silent as he walked past Catherine and into the living room. Catherine stood for a moment, puzzlement on her face before she followed Warrick into the living room. That's where she saw him throwing on his jacket and fastening his holster to his belt. "Warrick…?"

"We can get out the side window. It's a slight drop to the ground, but the cops outside won't see us. We'll grab a cab once we get out in the open."

"This isn't your problem."

"It became my problem once Lindsey got mixed up in this."

Catherine made her way to Warrick, the tears beginning to come once again. "You don't owe me anything. I'm not going to risk you because of what some madman wants."

Warrick finally looked up, his face calm and collected. "Not your choice. Only reason he has Lindsey is because of me. It's my responsibility to get her back."

That did it. Before she knew what was happening, tears were streaming down her face once again. She moved toward Warrick, her arms encircling his waist as her face pressed against his chest. "I can't lose you, Warrick."

He chuckled softly, his hand gently stroking her hair. "Nothing's going to happen. McCarran's too crowded for this guy to pull anything. We make the trade and then we'll go from there. Okay?" She nodded against his chest, her tears beginning to saturate his shirt.

She looked up at him, a small smile forming. "Okay."

"Alright then. Let's go get your little girl."

* * *

**  
Now.**

Grissom stood in the living room, his gaze sweeping over the contents of Warrick's space. Nick and Greg continued to survey the other areas of the residence, looking for a clue as to the whereabouts of their MIA CSIs. Grissom took note of the plates now sitting on the bookcase. Odd place for Warrick to place his dishes. So, either Warrick was a slob or he'd been interrupted. He moved toward the couch, the glint from the corner of his eye garnering his attention. Grissom knelt down next to the coffee table to see a metallic object underneath. He reached for the object up carefully, holding it up to the light.

"What you got, Griss?"

He didn't look at Greg as he spoke. "Catherine's badge." Grissom held it toward Greg, the concern evident in his voice. "They were in a rush. Normal circumstances, she'd never leave this behind. Question is, where were they in a rush to?"

"Yo, Grissom!" Grissom and Greg turned toward the sound, Grissom rising from the coffee table. "In the back!" Both men made their way toward Nick's voice, ultimately finding themselves in the bedroom. Upon entering, they could see Nick's hand waving outside the bedroom window. The open bedroom window.

Grissom couldn't help but smile at Warrick's escape. Best way to avoid the cops? Stay out of sight. "Point of exit?"

Nick called out, his voice now a casual tone. "Looks like it. I've got tread marks leading to the road. I lost them once I got out there, though."

"Which means they probably hailed a taxi."

Grissom turned back to Greg, admiring his CSI in training. However, he didn't voice his admiration. Instead, he picked up the bedroom phone, tapping a few keys. "Yes, I need to know if any of your drivers were called out to this area about half an hour ago."

* * *

"Thanks. Keep the change." The driver smiled at the generous tip before pulling back out into the travel lane. Warrick turned toward Catherine, her gaze washing over the individuals moving in and out of the airport. Warrick walked over to her, standing by her side. "So, now what?"

Her voice was fatigued. Perturbed. "I don't know. He just said McCarran departure level. Next move is his." She felt his hand gently grasp her free one, a tender squeeze given. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being you."

Warrick laughed softly, Catherine now reciprocating the squeeze. "We've always got each other's back, right?"

Catherine smiled at him, his words touching her deeply. "Right." Both continued to look at each other, volumes being spoken without the need for words. However, the moment was broken when Catherine's cell phone chimed. Their bond was severed as Catherine fished the phone out of her jacket pocket. No ID on the LCD. She flipped the phone open, holding it up to the side of her face. "Willows."

"Sorry for interrupting the Hallmark moment, but since you're early, I figured we can all go home early."

Her voice was somber as she spoke. "Where are you?"

"Somewhere I can see you."

"Fine. What now?"

The voice remained playful as it answered Catherine's question. "Eyes forward. Delta gate." Catherine did as she was told, looking at the human traffic jam occurring in front of the Delta Airlines entrance. "Next to the sliding doors." Her eyes followed until they fell upon what the voice wanted her to see.

"Lindsey!"

"No sudden moves, Catherine. Just continue following my instructions and we all walk away with what we want."

Catherine resisted the urge to run to Lindsey, instead remaining next to Warrick's side, Warrick looking on with concern toward Lindsey, who apparently hadn't seen them yet. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to walk slowly toward Lindsey. Mr. Brown, on the other hand, remains where he stands."

She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking toward Warrick. "He wants me to walk over to Lindsey while you stay here."

Warrick could see the worry in her eyes, so he pulled up the back of his jacket, revealing his service weapon. "Go on. I'll be fine."

She was about to speak, but the voice came across the phone once again. She held the phone back to her ear, the voice speaking. "Now, Catherine. Or I'll kill her right where she stands."

Her voice was frantic. "No! I'm going. See." She began to walk away from Warrick, only looking back once to make sure he was still there.

"Eyes front, Catherine. Mr. Brown's not going anywhere."

"Okay. Okay." She turned her view back toward Lindsey, her steps methodical. She counted the steps in her head as she made her way to Lindsey as a means to keep her mind occupied. As she neared the departure gate for Delta Airlines, Lindsey finally saw her. However, she made no action to move toward her mother.

"Lindsey's a very smart girl. Understood everything I told her in one sitting. Knows that if she moves, I'll kill her mommy."

"You son of a…"

"Used that one already, Catherine. C'mon. Can't you come up with something more original?"

"Okay. How about sadistic motherfu…"

The voice interrupted her with laughter. "Now, that's the girl I've heard about. Almost there, mommy. Slow and steady wins the race and all that rigmarole."

Catherine could see the fear in Lindsey's eyes as she got closer, tears evident on her face. However, no one else noticed the little girl. After all, it was an airport. No one notices anything at an airport. They're too busy trying to get to their next destination that the here and now doesn't matter that much, if at all.

She finally reached Lindsey, kneeling down next to her. Lindsey moved her arms around her mother's neck, Catherine picking her up with her free arm. She finally turned around to face Warrick who was still standing where she had left him.

"See, that wasn't that bad, now was it?"

"What? That's it?" The confusion in Catherine's voice was clearly evident. "That's all you wanted?"

"Almost. Lindsey has an envelope for you. Could you be a dear and ask her for it?"

Catherine turned to the little girl in her arm, her face buried in the crook of her neck. "Lindsey? The man says you have something for mommy." Lindsey looked up slowly, tears streaming down her face. All Catherine wanted to do in that moment was to comfort her daughter. But she had to finish this first. "Can you give me the letter, sweetie?"

Lindsey reached into her jeans pocket, pulling out a folded envelope and holding it out to her mother. Catherine took the envelope from Lindsey before she resumed her position in the crook of Catherine's neck. Then, the voice.

"You have it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, read to me what's on the front." Still perplexed, she unfolded the envelope. However, as she read the words in her mind, her breath caught in the back of her throat. "Catherine, please read the words to me or else."

Her voice faltered as she forced the words from her mouth. "Two…down."

"Good girl."

She never heard the phone line go dead. She never heard the rapport of the gun. Instead, all she saw was Warrick's upper torso exploding, a spray of blood escaping his body. It was as though the world had gone into slow motion, Catherine seeing Warrick's body slowly falling to the ground. There was no expression on his face as he fell. Instead, his eyes remained locked with hers until his face hit the pavement.

Then the screams.

The world came back into focus, time moving normally once again. People scattered away from Warrick, airline security as well as police officers trying to make sense of what had just happened. Catherine pushed her way through the crowd, Lindsey holding on tighter as her sobs became more evident. Catherine kneeled next to Warrick, her hands on Lindsey's.

"Let go, baby. I need to look at Warrick." Nothing. "Baby, please!" She didn't mean to yell at Lindsey, but it had gotten the job done. Lindsey remained close to Catherine, her hands in her pockets. Catherine turned back to Warrick, turning him over onto his back. The front of his shirt was soaked in the blood that now began to pool beneath him, his breathing shallow. Catherine placed her hand over the wound as she applied pressure, looking around until she finally saw a police officer moving in her direction. She didn't wait for him to get to her. "Call 911! Now!"

The officer pulled the radio from his shoulder strap, the words lost on Catherine. Instead, she continued to put pressure on the wound, her hands now an amalgamation of flesh and blood. "Don't you die on me, Warrick!" She didn't know if the sobs were coming from Lindsey or herself. It didn't really matter at that point. "Please…"

* * *

"Catherine?"

She looked up to see Grissom, Nick and Greg standing in front of her. Lindsey's head lay in her lap as she yearned to be close to her mother, Catherine gently stroking her daughter's hair. Catherine's voice was monotone as she spoke. "He's in the OR right now. No word yet." She held her free hand out, the envelope speckled with Warrick's blood. "He left another note."

Grissom motioned to Greg, who quickly caught on. He instinctively pulled out a pair of latex gloves from his pocket before handling the envelope. "I'll see what I can come up with." With that, he began to make his way to the parking lot. However, Nick called out to him, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'll be there in a bit." Nick motioned to Lindsey, Greg getting the hint.

"Alright. See you back at the shop." With that, he disappeared around the corner, Nick kneeling in front of Lindsey.

"Hey, Linds. Wanna grab a bite?" She looked up at her mother, Catherine nodding in kind. Lindsey slowly sat up, Nick holding his hand out to the little girl. "Let's see if the cafeteria has anything edible, yeah?"

Grissom nodded at Nick before sitting next to Catherine. "So, what happened?"

"Bastard took my little girl, Grissom. And now Warrick's…" She couldn't finish the thought, instead beginning to shake. Grissom instinctively draped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. "It's all my fault. It's all my fault."

"You're not the bad guy here, Cath. The guy that shot Warrick; stabbed Robbins. He's the bad guy. And we'll get him."

Catherine laughed harshly, never looking at Grissom as she spoke. "You really believe that?"

He never hesitated as he spoke. "Yes, I do." For some reason, his words put her at a sense of ease. "Mind if I wait with you?"

She spoke softly, the anger in her voice now replaced with fatigue. "I should take Lindsey home."

"I'll call Sara. She and Brass should be done with the security company by now. If you don't mind, that is."

She shook her head slowly before resting it against Grissom's shoulder. Grissom gently squeezed Catherine's shoulder again, both waiting for the news on Warrick's condition.

* * *

Greg hated the fact that his parking spot was so far away from the building. However, with his eventual promotion to full-fledged CSI, he'd be closer to the building. A definite perk, to say the least. Being in the field was good and all, but a better parking space. That was pure icing, baby.

His car pulled into the parking lot, the lot almost vacant. Only night shift was on the scene at the moment. The day shift wouldn't come rolling in for at least another hour or so. Greg turned off the car radio before pulling the key from the ignition. He then reached to the passenger seat, grabbing the now bagged envelope that had been acquired from the airport. To say he was nervous was an understatement.

Last envelope had tagged Warrick as the next to be taken out of action. And, if this lunatic was methodical, Greg now held the answer to who would be next. But, he brushed the thought off. Robbins was the head coroner. Warrick was next in line to take Grissom's place. Who was he? A CSI in training slash lab technician. Compared to the others, he was low man on the totem pole. As disturbing as his logic was, it also brought a sense of ease to him as well. In any case, Nick would arrive soon. As long as he had someone to talk to, his mind could stop conjuring up these stupid what ifs.

Greg stepped out of the car, placing the bagged envelope on the roof. As he slid the key into the car door, he heard a noise behind him. Before he had a chance to turn around, he felt his head slam against the roof of the car, a gloved hand covering his mouth. Once, twice. He lost count as his vision became blurred, the pain becoming unbearable. He felt the pain explode across his midsection, down his sides, before he realized he was now on the ground. He tried to speak, but instead was rewarded with a sharp pain coursing through his head. Before Greg lost consciousness, one thought kept on repeating in his mind.

_Lunatics aren't methodical._

Unfortunately for Greg, he never got the chance to process the envelope from the airport. However, given his current situation, he could have made an educated guess as to who was next. As for the person after him, that was a different matter. That task would most likely fall to Hodges as the new envelope lay on Greg's back, the message clearly evident.

**THREE DOWN…**  
  
_To be continued_


	4. IV

Title: A Wolf at the Door

Author: Spike Speigel

E-mail:

Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.

Spoilers: Everything before Viva Las Vegas. Sequel to _No Surprises_.

Summary: The crime lab gets a wake up call when they become the focal point of a new case. Part IV.

Status: Finished

* * *

Brass was pulling into the parking lot when Sara's cell phone began to ring. Sara smiled apologetically, Brass returning a small one in kind. She reached into her vest pocket to retrieve the phone. Grissom's name flashed on the LCD. She didn't mean to smile, especially with Brass in the vehicle, but she did that a lot more recently when his name came up on her cell. She flipped open her phone, trying to keep her voice as professional as possible.

"Sidle."

Grissom ascertained from the reply that she was still near the vicinity of Brass. However, he really didn't have to keep up the charade since Catherine knew about his relationship with Sara. Unfortunately, it wasn't the right time for flirtatious banter. It'd have to wait.

"Any leads at the security company?"

The upbeat in Sara's voice was evident as she answered his question. "Could be. Mr. Mendoza received a work order to perform routine maintenance on the camera as well as readjust its position. Something about the camera being out of focus. Manager's looking for the work order right now. Said he'd fax us a copy once he pulled it up in the database."

"Good work, Sara." She allowed herself a small smile. She might be dating the guy, but it still made her day when he complimented her work. "Could you come down to MountainView once you're done there?"

She could hear the worry in his voice. "What's wrong?"

Grissom hesitated, trying to phrase his words accurately. "Warrick's been shot."

"Oh my god."

"He's in surgery right now. Cath and I are waiting for any word. I was hoping you'd come down here and take Lindsey home until we're done here."

Sara spoke, a quizzical tone to her voice. "Lindsey?"

"It's a long story. I'll fill you in later. So, can you pick her up?"

"Yeah, of course."

Grissom sighed softly, a hint of relief in his voice. "Thanks. We'll be waiting for you. Bye."

"Bye." With that, she pressed the end key. "I…uh…I have to head over to MountainView to get Lindsey."

The confusion in Brass' voice was clearly evident as he pulled into the parking spot. "Lindsey? Something wrong?"

"Um, Grissom didn't tell me much. Only that Warrick's in the OR with a GSW. He's with Catherine now."

Brass groaned slightly, irritation tinting his voice. "That's two then. How the hell did he get Warrick?"

Sara shook her head slightly, releasing her seatbelt. "Dunno, but let's just hope it stops at Warrick." Brass nodded agreement, Sara opening the passenger door. Brass followed closely, both beginning to walk toward Sara's car. "Jim?"

"Just making sure you get to your car in one piece. No telling which one of us is next."

Sara nodded slightly, a small smile gracing her face. "Thanks, Brass."

"Just doing my job, ma'am."

Sara looked at him, her nose slightly crinkled. "Ma'am? How old do you think I am, anyway?"

Brass waved his hand at her, a small chuckle emanating from his lips. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"In that case, you're off the hook."

"Gee, thanks." Both smiled slightly even though the severity of the situation still lingered in the air. And the noise that came from their right did little to alleviate said situation. "You hear that?"

"The bushes." Sara reached for her gun, Brass mimicking her perfectly. Brass signaled to her to remain close as he took point, gun drawn to the ready. Sara remained close to Brass as he moved methodically toward the sound. Upon pinpointing the exact location, Brass pointed to his eyes, then to the silver VW Beetle. Sara nodded, her grip tightening around the butt of her firearm. Sara followed Brass' silent count before stepping into the void between the Beetle and the adjacent vehicle. However, Sara was immediately puzzled when Brass lowered his weapon, instead rushing into the space. "Jim?"

She could hear him mumble under his breath as she moved into view of Brass. "Christ." Upon viewing the scene, Sara quickly holstered her gun and extricated her cell phone. Brass felt for a pulse, sighing in relief as he found one.

"This is CSI Sidle. I need paramedics at the CSI lab now. I've got a 415 that needs immediate medical attention." She waited for the confirmation before ending the call. Sara instinctively pulled her jacket sleeve over her hand before kneeling next to Brass and Greg. "How bad?"

"Looks like someone took a baseball bat to him. Jesus Christ." Sara grimaced slightly when she saw the small pool of blood underneath Greg's head. "Should we move him?"

"No. Might do more harm than good."

Brass nodded, turning back to Greg. "Hang on, Greggo. Help'll be here soon. Just hang on, kid." Sara reached across Greg's back, gently picking up the new envelope with her jacket sleeve. She noted the message before showing it to Brass. There was no question as to Brass' mindset at that point. "Son of a bitch!"

* * *

Lindsey was about to take another bite from her vanilla pudding, but thought better of it before placing the plastic spoon back into the cup. She was hungry, but she could hold out for real food. Nick continued to watch in silence until he was sure she was done eating.

"Good?" Lindsey shrugged her shoulders, not really in the mood to talk. Unfortunately, Nick needed her to talk at the moment. "Linds, I have a few questions to ask you, if you're up to it. Think you can answer a few questions?" Her answer was a quick nod as she continued to stare deeply into her pudding cup. "Alright. Can you tell me who took you and when?"

Lindsey never looked at Nick as she spoke. "I was at Grandma's. I was doing my homework when I heard a noise from downstairs. Something loud. So, I went downstairs and saw Grandma sleeping in her armchair." Lindsey paused, her mouth slightly open.

"And then?"

"I don't remember. Everything went black." Her voice began to waver as she continued to recollect. "Everything stayed black until the airport."

"So, you didn't see who took you?" Lindsey nodded slightly, her brow furrowed, her lips pursed. "Okay. Did you hear anything? Anything strange, maybe?"

"Just his voice." She began to stir the spoon in the cup; trying to remember as best she could for her mother's friend. "Sounded weird."

Nick nodded, hoping for something to follow up on. "Can you describe it?"

"It was like on the radio." Nick looked at her quizzically, not entirely sure of what she was talking about. "When you hear those people that call in, and they have their radio on in the background? Like there were two voices?"

"Oh, like a delay?" Lindsey nodded slightly, Nick smiling at her as he continued. "Back to the airport. You said everything was dark until the airport. Did you see who took you at the airport?"

Her answer came immediately. "No. He left me at the gate. Told me to count to a hundred before I took off the hood and blindfold. Or else he'd hurt mommy."

Nick exhaled sharply in disgust, his emotion beginning to get the better of him. The asshole kept Lindsey in check by threatening Catherine. What daughter would take the chance? Nick took a deep breath before continuing. "That's good, Lindsey. You're doing good. Just a few more questions, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay." Nick smiled almost apologetically at Lindsey as he continued. "How about smells? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"No. Not really."

"Anything you can think of."

Lindsey furrowed her brow, as though trying to remember the slightest of detail. After a moment, she spoke. "He had new car smell. Does that help?"

Nick grinned slightly, impressed at Catherine's daughter. "Maybe. Good job, Linds." The movement out of the corner of his eye got his attention, Nick turning to see Grissom walking toward him. He turned back to Lindsey, the smile still on his face. "I'm gonna get a jell-o cup. You want one?" Lindsey shook her head more agitatedly than he would have expected. Nick nodded. "Be right back." With that, he rose from the cafeteria table, making his way toward Grissom. "What's up?"

Grissom looked toward Lindsey before returning his attention to Nick. "You get anything?"

"Not really. She didn't see anything and it sounds like her abductor was using an electronic device to mask his voice. Oh, and he might be driving a new car." Nick thought about his conversation with Lindsey before speaking once more. "And you might want to send a car over to Catherine's mother's. Lindsey said she was sleeping when she was taken, but who knows."

Grissom nodded. "Could you stay with her until Sara comes by to take her home?"

"Yeah, sure. Better call Greg and tell him to go ahead without me on the envelope." Grissom nodded again, Nick reaching for his cell phone. While Nick tried to call Greg, Grissom's cell chimed. If Grissom were a paranoid person, he'd think it more than a coincidence that his cell had gone off at that exact moment. Luckily for him, he was that paranoid.

"Grissom."

"Grissom, it's me."

He could hear the worry in Sara's voice. "What's wrong?"

"It's Greg. Brass and I found him in the parking lot. Someone almost caved his head in. Brass is on his way to MountainView. I'm gonna see if I can get anything from the scene."

"Sara…"

She cut him off, knowing exactly what he was thinking. "Brass left two of his best with me before he took off. You know this is the right thing to do."

The concern was evident in his voice as he spoke. "Yeah, I know. Did he leave another envelope?"

"Yeah. Hodges is already working on them. The second one's most likely Greg's DNA, but Hodges is typing both."

Grissom sighed softly, worry once again filling his voice. "Just…just be careful, okay?"

Sara smiled slightly, alleviating her lover's concern. "I love you, too. Tell Nick to bring Lindsey back to the lab. I'll take her home once we're done processing."

"Good thinking. Brass and I'll be over at McCarran later to see if we can find anything. I'll probably be home late."

"Want me to send Nick over once we're done here?"

Grissom heard Nick walking back toward him, his tone shifting back into a more formal one. "No, that's okay. We're all pretty burnt out about now. I think a few hours will do us all some good about now."

"Okay. Talk to you later."

"Later." The line went dead, Grissom turning back to Nick.

"Strangest thing. Kept on getting Greg's voicemail. Maybe he fell asleep? I'm gonna head over there now and…"

Grissom interrupted him, not trying to mask the gravity of their situation. "Greg's on his way here."

"What?"

"Jim and Sara found him in the parking lot. He got worked over pretty good, according to Sara."

"Dammit. Another envelope?" Grissom nodded. "Where do you want me?"

"Take Lindsey back to the lab. Help Sara process the parking lot and then go home and get a few hours rest before next shift."

Nick scoffed softly at his supervisor's words. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'll let Brass know to put a black and white on your place. We gotta play it safe from here on out. And that means being on our A game. One mistake, and we'll have another one of us inside these walls."

Nick nodded, seeing the logic in Grissom's words. "Alright. How's Cath doing?"

"A little shaken up but otherwise okay. Warrick just got out of surgery. Cath went to see how he's doing."

Nick exhaled sharply, relief washing over him. "That's good. I'm gonna head on back to the lab then. I'll let you know what we turn up." Grissom nodded before Nick walked back to Lindsey. There was still some time before Brass arrived, so Grissom decided to join Catherine.

* * *

Catherine stood in front of the door, staring through the double paned glass, the wire mesh segmenting Warrick into small square segments. Her arms remained crossed about her waist as she continued to look at him. His upper left chest had been bandaged heavily, but other than that, he looked relatively unscathed. Catherine thanked whatever god was listening to her pleas back at the airport as she watched Warrick, a look of serenity on his face. A look of peace.

"Excuse me. Can I help you?"

Catherine turned her body slightly to see a nurse standing in her proximity. "I'm sorry?"

"You look like you're lost."

Her voice was tired as she spoke. "No. Not lost. Just relieved."

The nurse looked into the room to see Warrick lying in the bed, finally piecing together the puzzle. "Your friend's going to be okay."

"Yeah, that's what Doctor…Doctor…"

"Ramcharan."

Catherine nodded at the nurse. "Right. Ramcharan. Said the bullet missed the major arteries. Clean shot."

The nurse stepped closer to Catherine, her hand falling on the door handle. "Do you want to see him?"

Catherine gave the nurse a quizzical look. "Really? I thought he needed to recuperate."

"He's stable, so I don't see what a few minutes will hurt. Anyway, he's been asking about you."

Catherine could feel the tears beginning to well in her eyes. That was just like Warrick. He took a bullet and he was the one worrying about her well-being. "Thank you."

The nurse opened the door, a gentle smile gracing her elderly face. "Just a little while, though." Catherine nodded, the nurse leaving her to her privacy.

Catherine quietly closed the door behind her, walking slowly to Warrick's bedside. She eased a chair next to the edge, taking a seat next to her friend. She looked at him for a moment before extending her arm out toward him. Her hand eventually found its way around his, her thumb gently stroking his palm.

"I don't know if you can hear me, Warrick. But, thank you. Thank you for saving my little girl. I don't know what I would have done if I lost her. I don't…"

"…'re welcome."

She looked up from their embrace to see Warrick looking at her through tired eyes. "Honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you…"

"It's okay. Been up. Drugs making me feel woozy though."

Catherine genuinely smiled at her friend, a tear trickling down her cheek. "They're to help you sleep."

He nodded slightly, his voice hoarse. Weak. "Lindsey?"

"She's okay. She's…" Her voice cracked, her emotions beginning to overcome her. "I was so sure I was going to lose you."

Warrick managed a meek smile, his hand squeezing back at hers. "Not so easy to get rid of me. You're gonna have to try harder."

Catherine didn't mean to laugh, but she was just so relieved that Warrick was okay. She leaned forward toward the bed, placing a tender kiss onto the back of Warrick's hand. "Asshole." Warrick laughed softly before the cough erupted from his chest. "Oh, God. I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"S'okay. I'm good."

Catherine smiled slightly as she rested her head on the bed, their hands still entwined. "I gotta go soon. But, I'll be back. I promise."

His voice was timid yet caring. "I know. Just glad you're okay."

Catherine smiled, placing another kiss on his hand before placing her head against the bed once more. Neither saw Grissom looking through the door, a small grin on his face. He stepped away from the door and proceeded to make his way back to the waiting room for Brass' arrival. However, as he began to walk away, a foreign voice stopped him in his tracks.

"CSI Grissom?"

Grissom turned around to see a young man, most likely in his early thirties, garbed in a dark blue suit, black tie, and close-cropped haircut, standing in front of him. "Yes. And you are?"

The stranger smiled awkwardly, holding out his badge to Grissom. "Uh, sorry. Special Agent Michael Morrison. I'm here to help." Morrison put the badge back into his jacket pocket before offering his hand.

Unfortunately for him, Grissom didn't offer his hand in return, instead looking on quizzically. "Help?"

"Sheriff Atwater put in the request for more manpower. Told the branch you've got a hostile taking your people out in a methodical manner. And here I am."

"So I see. I'll have to have a talk with Roy." Grissom turned around, continuing his trek to the waiting room. Agent Morrison remained still for a moment before he realized that his conversation was walking away without him. Morrison quickly made his way to Grissom's side, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"Look, Dr. Grissom. Like it or not, I'm here to help. That's all."

Grissom never looked at the eager young man as he spoke. "And how can you help?"

"Former Marine. Weapons expert. Sharpshooter. Forensics science." Grissom stopped walking, turning to face Morrison. "Look, I'm familiar with what it takes to shoot a man from distance. Maybe I can get inside this guy's head. Figure out what his next move will be. I'm not trying to step on any toes. I'm just here to help, straight up."

Grissom gave Morrison another once over, his black hair contrasting greatly to Grissom's graying hairline. "You have your kit with you?"

Morrison nodded, confusion on his face. "Out in my car."

Grissom finally offered his hand, Morrison taking it. "Good. Because we've got an airport level to process." With that, Grissom walked away from Morrison, leaving the agent perplexed once again. However, this time, Agent Morrison caught on more quickly, only needing a few seconds to register what was happening before falling in step with Grissom.

* * *

Warrick had finally fallen to sleep, Catherine remaining with him for a few more minutes before leaving the hospital room. She leaned against the outside door, her head hanging slightly. While she was relieved that Warrick was going to be okay, she was still…what? Furious? Violated? Whatever. In any case, a madman had taken her little girl and almost killed her best friend. No matter how she tried to justify it, those were things that were wholly unacceptable. Unfortunately, the way this case was unfolding, it was highly unlikely that this bastard would get what was truly coming to him.

Catherine fished her cell from her pants pocket, scrolling through her phonebook. When she came across the number she wanted, she pressed the key and held the phone up to her ear.

"Hello? This is Catherine Willows. I need to talk to him." A moment of silence before the voice came back.

"Catherine?"

"Hi, Sam. I need to talk to you as soon as possible. Face to face."

Braun's voice was clearly puzzled as he spoke. "Um, sure. What's this about, anyway?"

Her voice never wavered as she spoke. "I need a favor."

_To be continued_


	5. V

Title: A Wolf at the Door

Author: Spike Speigel

E-mail:

Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.

Spoilers: Everything before Viva Las Vegas. Sequel to _No Surprises_.

Summary: The crime lab gets a wake up call when they become the focal point of a new case. Part V.

Status: Finished

* * *

To say she was disappointed was an understatement. Sara had gone over the parking lot meticulously, and all she had to show for it was a piece of chewed gum, Greg's blood and hair, and the dented roof of his silver VW Beetle. No prints, no foreign fibers, nothing. So, while Mia worked on the gum, Sara decided to wait for the results from the third envelope.

So, here she was, in a lab room with Hodges. Sara stood upright, leaning against a marble topped table, arms crossed, while Hodges sat in his chair, looking over his shoulder every once in a while before returning his gaze to the computer monitor. Sara had noticed this on more than one occasion, finally calling him on it.

"What?"

Hodges didn't bother to look back, instead focusing his attention to the runtime of the current DNA analysis. "What what?"

"You keep looking at me."

"Am I?" Hodges raised a weak fist up to his face, biting nervously on the thumbnail.

Sara's hand came down on the backrest of the swivel chair, turning it around so Hodges was facing her. "Yeah, and it's making me uncomfortable."

The distress in Hodges' voice was unmistakable. "Oh, I'm sorry. For all we know, I'm probably the next one this nutbag takes out. Or you. Or whoever. So you'll excuse me if I'm just a bit nervous right about now."

Sara nodded her head slightly, completely understanding where Hodges was coming from. "I'm…I'm sorry. I guess we're all on edge."

Hodges nodded, a weak smirk emerging on his face. "Forget about it." The printer began to warm up, the machine emitting a low hum. "Analysis is almost done." Both turned their gaze toward the printer, neither noticing Nick walking toward them in the distance, Lindsey close in tow. As Nick neared the DNA lab, he could almost see the tension in the room.

"Hey."

Sara looked up, Hodges' focus remaining on the printer. She looked down at Lindsey, a gentle smile now on her face. "Hey. How you doing, sweetie?"

Lindsey nodded her head slowly, remaining close to Nick's side. Nick gently brushed his hand across Lindsey's hair before speaking. "Second or third envelope?"

Hodges spoke up, the paper beginning to emerge from the paper tray. "Third. Second belonged to Greg. No surprise there." The printer let out a final mechanical groan before going silent, Hodges hurriedly pulling the paper from the tray. Unfortunately, the results printed on said paper were not what he was expecting. Nick could see the confusion on Hodges' face; worry now beginning to overcome him as well.

"Problem?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Sara looked at him quizzically, Hodges handing the printout to her. After a moment, she could see why the analysis had confused Hodges. "Is this right?"

Hodges nodded. "No match for anyone in the lab."

Nick frowned at the news, disappointment tinting his words. "Guess it's time to go through the databases."

Sara handed the printout back to Hodges, concurring with Nick's assessment. "David, can you see what CODIS kicks out? And if that doesn't give us anything, check the military and police databases. This guy's a long-range shooter. Someone had to train him." Hodges nodded agreement, turning back to his computer to begin the search. Sara turned to Nick, Lindsey looking on in quiet interest. "I've got Greg's car in the garage. Wanna give it another pass in case I missed anything?"

Nick vaguely shook his head, looking down at Lindsey. "That's okay. I'm sure you didn't miss anything. Besides, I still have those surveillance tapes to finish. It'd go faster if we both worked the stacks." Sara nodded slightly, agreeing with his reasoning. "But first." He kneeled next to Lindsey, his voice tender. "Lindsey? Sara and I have some work to do. I'm going to leave you in your mom's office until we're done, okay?" Lindsey's grip tightened around Nick's hand, Lindsey not ready to be left alone after what had transpired. Fortunately for her, Nick got the hint. "Okay. No office. Wanna see what you mom does for a living then?"

Lindsey didn't look at him, her voice timid. "Whatever."

Sara smiled at the little girl, seeing her mother in her. "And when we're done, we can go and get some ice cream until you mom comes to pick you up. Okay?"

Lindsey nodded slightly, both Nick and Sara seeing the smile emerging on her lips. Both exchanged a glance before making their way to the video room, Lindsey remaining close to both CSIs.

* * *

"Airport security did a decent job keeping the scene intact for us."

Grissom looked up at Brass, seeing the fatigue evident in his face. "Any word from Catherine's mother's?"

Brass looked away from Grissom, who continued to collect evidence near the bloodstain that had come from Warrick's wound. "Officer found her unconscious, but otherwise unharmed. Most likely chloroform."

"We'll have to wait for the hospital results. Is Catherine over there?"

Brass turned his attention to the stranger, his back to them. "Not yet. Said she had something to take care of. Probably wants to make sure Lindsey's okay." Grissom nodded absently at Brass' comment, still processing the area. "So, Rory called the Feds?"

Grissom didn't look up, instead catching a glint out of the corner of his eye. He turned to the source of the light, a smile emerging on his face. "Yep. Checked just to make sure. Seems the FBI sent us one of their best." Grissom turned to Brass, metal forceps in his hand. "Souvenir?"

Brass nodded as Grissom placed the bullet into a plastic bag. Finally, they had something tangible to work with. Well, other than the envelopes, that was. Brass turned back to Agent Morrison, his curiosity finally winning out. "What is he doing?"

Grissom placed the bullet into his kit before rising from the ground. He glanced over at Brass while making his way over to Morrison. "Let's find out, shall we?" Brass shook his head, slapping himself mentally for even asking the question in the first place. Both men stood on either side of Agent Morrison, Grissom querying the agent. "Agent? Captain Brass would like to know what you're looking at?"

Morrison raised his hand in front of his face, index and middle finger pressed together, pointing out into the distance. "That's where I'd be if I wanted to take a shot."

Grissom and Brass followed Morrison's fingers, both realizing what the agent was pointing to. Brass spoke, clearly impressed by the Fed. "Damn, how'd we miss that?"

Grissom answered the question, a hint of approval in his voice. "Because we're not the ex-Marine. He is." Morrison grinned slightly, Grissom continuing. "So, you'd be able to make a shot from up there?"

Morrison answered, no hesitation in his voice. "Hell, I'd probably be able to do it from the billboard behind it with the right equipment. But, yeah. It's far enough for concealment, but close enough for a clean shot. Which one you want?"

Grissom snapped off his latex gloves, a grin on his face. "I'll take the closer one. Unless you've got a preference."

"Nah, I'm good. Besides, I wouldn't want you throwing your back out lugging your kit up the taller one. You're already short of people as it is." Morrison picked up his kit, walking toward his car. Brass and Grissom exchanged a glance, Morrison calling back to them. "You guys coming, or what?"

Brass began to walk toward the vehicle; cell phone in hand ready to call the proper authorities for cherry pickers to get his criminologists up on the billboard while Grissom remained motionless, still grinning. It was hard to admit, but try as he might, Morrison was starting to grow on him.

* * *

"Sir, Ms. Willows is here to see you."

"Very good. Send her in, Ms. Simmons." Sam Braun stood in front of the penthouse windows, looking at the world below him. No matter how many times he looked out these windows, the scenery always managed to take his breath away, especially at night. Only at night did his city awaken, bathing her inhabitants in her soothing aura, welcoming them with open arms to this supposed city of sin. But he knew better. Treat her with respect, and the city would repay in kind. Treat her as a one-night stand, and she'd do likewise, leaving you battered, broken, and most likely bankrupt.

He could hear the door open, the metal hinges groaning at the weight of the mahogany doors. He could tell from the sound that only one door had been opened, the other remaining closed. He adjusted his gaze, focusing now on the reflection in the window, Catherine walking toward him.

"Hello, Catherine. Would you like something to drink?"

Catherine stopped at his desk, her arms crossed about her chest. "No, that's okay. Thanks, anyway."

Braun finally turned around to face his daughter, a small smile playing across his face. "Care to sit down?" Catherine complied, both finding their way into their respective seats. Braun clasped his hands together, his elbows on the desk. He placed the makeshift fist below his chin before continuing. "So, you said you needed a favor, I believe?"

"That's right."

He could hear the uncertainty in her voice. Undoubtedly, this was going to be one hell of a favor given the fact she was even asking for help. "Must be important. You being here and all. Took you what. A few months before you cashed the check?"

Catherine nodded slightly, beginning to wonder if she'd made a mistake in coming here. She decided the hell with it. The faster she got it out in the open, the easier it'd be later on. "About why I'm here."

"Yes?"

"I need you to look after Lindsey and Mom for a while."

Braun raised an eyebrow, surprised at her request. "Sounds serious. You know, with you forbidding me from seeing Lindsey and all."

Catherine answered frankly. "It is."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the McCarran incident, would it?" Catherine looked at him, a look of astonishment on her face. "I make it my business to know about what's going on in this city."

"Alright." Catherine looked down at her hands, contemplating her next words. "I can't tell you much since it's an active case. But it does affect Lindsey and Mom."

Braun nodded slightly; chin still perched on his hands as he spoke. "Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"I'll look after them in the mean time. Besides, gives me a chance to bond with my granddaughter."

Catherine's voice rose, fear tinting her words. "She's not to know you're her grandfather."

"Why not? She's family, after all."

Catherine scoffed, not meaning to, but her emotions got the better of her. "Yeah? Tell that to your ex-wife."

Braun's hands opened up, his palms facing her in mock defeat. "Point taken. But that doesn't mean I can't spend some quality time with her."

Catherine shook her head, realizing this was probably the best she'd be able to do given current circumstances. "Fine. Just…just try and be civil with Mom, okay?"

His answer was to the point. "I'm nothing but civil, Catherine."

She gave him a look of bemusement before rising from the leather chair. "I'll bring them over as soon as I can." She began to walk away from the desk. However, Braun's voice stopped her in mid stride.

"Is there anything else?" Catherine looked over her shoulder, giving him a quizzical look. "I hear that the shooting at McCarran isn't the only incident that's affected your unit. Would you like me to look into the matter? See what I can turn up, so to speak?"

Catherine hesitated for a moment, unsure about her father's question. The silence remained in the air for a few seconds before she finally replied. "Fine. But just information. Nothing more."

Braun smiled at his daughter, a twinkle in his eye. "Of course."

Catherine returned her father's smile with a meek one of her own before walking toward the office door. However, before she left the room, she spoke, not looking back. "Sam?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Thank you for this." With that, she walked out of the office, never getting a chance to hear her father's reply.

"Anything for my little girl."

* * *

The three men walked down the hallway, Agent Morrison surveying the surroundings in near awe. Grissom, noticing the young man's curiosity, finally spoke. "Something in particular you're looking for?"

"No, not really. It's just this is my first time in here."

"And why would that matter?"

"I applied for a position here years ago. Didn't make the cut, I guess. So, I ended up serving my country instead."

The curiosity in Grissom's voice was evident as he spoke. "Well, this is one of the top labs in the country. Perhaps your background wasn't sufficient at the time?"

Morrison's voice was subdued as he continued looking into the various labs. "Well, I wouldn't know. But still, I dreamt of working here. Working with you."

Brass chimed in, his tone playful. "Trust me, kid. There are better places than this to work." He looked over to Grissom, a slight grin on his face. "Better people, too."

Grissom ignored Brass' verbal jab, returning his attention to Morrison. "You can always reapply. I'm sure your credentials will reflect the growth you've undergone since your initial application."

Morrison finally turned to Grissom, a smirk on his face. "Nah. I'm good where I am. But it would have been something to see if I could be Watson to your Sherlock."

The head CSI smiled at Morrison's words, the sincerity evident in his voice. "Maybe when you're done with the FBI, you'll consider CSI for your future endeavors."

"You never know."

The men continued to make their way to the ballistics lab to have the bullet from the crime scene analyzed, when Hodges emerged from his lab, walking toward the group excitedly. "Hey, boss. You're gonna want to take a look at this."

The group met Hodges halfway, Grissom looking over Hodges questioningly. "What do you have, David?"

"Not sure if anyone's told you yet, but the hair sample in the third envelope didn't match anyone in the lab."

Grissom shook his head slowly. "No, I didn't know that. Did you match it to CODIS?"

"No match."

Brass spoke, a hint of frustration in his voice. "But you did match it?"

Hodges glanced over Brass hurriedly before returning his attention to Grissom. "Got a hit in the Federal database."

Grissom furrowed his brow, the news perplexing him. "Federal?"

"Yeah. An Agent Morrison."

"Michael Morrison?"

"Yeah, how'd you know that?" The three men exchanged glances, Hodges confused by their reaction to his finding. That's when he realized that there was someone in the conversation that he didn't recognize. "I'm sorry. Who are you?"

The agent answered, a hint of bewilderment in his voice. "Agent Michael Morrison." Hodges didn't mean to laugh, but given the current predicament, he couldn't do anything but. Morrison turned to Grissom, his tone a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. "What the hell is going on here?"

Unfortunately for Grissom, he didn't have an answer.

* * *

Grissom found himself greeted to two females on his couch, two pints of Ben & Jerry's readily evident. He closed the door slowly behind him, choosing his words carefully. After all, it wasn't every day he had his lover and his friend's daughter in his home.

"Everything okay here?"

Sara looked up at the approaching Grissom, pulling the spoon from her mouth. With a quick gulp, she spoke. "We're okay. Lindsey and I are just having a girls' night in. Isn't that right?" Lindsey mumbled incoherently, the spoon proving to be a detriment to speaking. Sara rose from the couch, greeting Grissom with a small hug. "How are you doing?"

He looked down at her; unsure as to the level of intimacy he was allowed to show in front of Catherine's daughter. Fortunately for him, Sara answered his question by dropping a small kiss on his lips. He smiled at her tenderness before speaking. "I'm okay. Just tired."

"I know. We're all stretched pretty thin."

Grissom looked over to Lindsey, who continued to stare at the television, a dribble of ice cream on the corner of her lip. "Catherine knows Lindsey's here?"

"Yeah. I was going to stay at my place but Catherine told me that I didn't have to since she apparently knows we're together."

Grissom grinned sheepishly, Sara looking at him mock accusingly. "She found out. Honest. But she said she'll keep it a secret until we're ready to tell everyone."

"I'm just teasing." Sara pulled away from Grissom, walking toward the kitchen as she spoke. "Did you have dinner yet?"

"Not really. But don't worry. I can throw something together."

"It's not a big deal. Just take your shoes off and relax. Dinner'll be ready in a few minutes."

Grissom looked at Sara, then back to Lindsey. He sighed softly, realizing that he didn't have a choice in the matter. He kicked off his shoes, placing them near the foot of the couch, before sitting down next to Lindsey. "So, what are you watching?"

Lindsey never looked at him as she answered, placing another spoonful of Chunky Monkey in her mouth. "South Park."

Grissom's brow furrowed as he looked on in mild interest at the television program. Needless to say, he didn't like it as much as Lindsey did. He'd come to that premature conclusion when the rotund boy in the red jumper had been tricked into eating pubic hair. "You know, if you want to change the channel to something else…"

"It's okay. I like this one. Cartman's about to feed that kid's parents to him. That was so cool."

Grissom ran a hand through his hair, befuddled by the current situation. No wonder Catherine was having trouble with Lindsey recently if this was the type of television she was being exposed to. Then again, Sara had thought it okay for Lindsey to watch as well, so maybe it was just something he wasn't getting. He frowned slightly at the thought. There was a lot he didn't understand when it came to human interaction. But, at least he was trying. That had to count for something, right?

The knock at the door stirred him from his thoughts, Grissom rubbing Lindsey's head gently as he rose from the couch. Upon answering the door, he was greeted with a somewhat fatigued Catherine standing in his doorway. "Hello there. Care to come in?"

"Thanks." As Catherine moved past Grissom, she was somewhat annoyed to see Lindsey stuffing her face with a pint of ice cream. "Grissom. Now she'll never get to sleep."

Grissom raised his hands up in defense. "Hey, I just got here."

Catherine's annoyance quickly changed to amusement at the situation. "Tell your girlfriend that we're going to have a talk about this later."

"No need. She's in the kitchen. But, can you wait until she's done fixing me dinner before you lay into her?"

Catherine grinned at Grissom. "I never thought I'd see it."

"What's that?"

She touched Grissom's chin with her thumb and index finger, tilting his head slightly as though she was examining him. "A domesticated Grissom." Grissom gently brushed her hand away, both sharing a smile. With that, Catherine walked over to her daughter, kneeling with her arms wide open. "C'mon, Linds. Time to go." Lindsey reluctantly parted with her ice cream, eventually moving into her mother's arms. Catherine lifted her daughter up, cradled in her arms as she turned to Grissom. "Thanks for looking after her."

"Don't thank me. Thank Sara. I've been at McCarran for most of the day."

"Did you find anything?"

Grissom nodded slightly. "Bullet. It's in ballistics as we speak. Also collected some fibers from a billboard. Might be nothing, but at least we finally have something to work with. Anything at your mother's?"

Catherine shook her head. "I'd say you've got the best lead so far. Didn't leave so much as a partial print."

Both turned toward the kitchen, Sara emerging from the back with a dish in her hand. "Hey, Cath. Didn't hear you come in."

"Looks good. Maybe with you around, Grissom will finally have a vegetable more than just once a week now."

Sara and Catherine exchanged a mischievous glance, Grissom frowning. He turned to Lindsey, who looked on in curiosity. "Lindsey, when you grow up, don't be like these women. They're nothing but trouble, if you ask me."

Catherine objected in mock surprise. "Grissom!" She turned to Lindsey, her tone gentle. "Don't listen to him, Linds. He's just a typical male, all opinion and no evidence." With that, Catherine began to walk toward the front door, Sara placing the dish on the coffee table, now standing next to Grissom. Catherine turned back, her mood now somber. "Thanks again. For looking after her."

Sara nodded. "No problem. See you tomorrow." Catherine nodded before disappearing from the doorway. Grissom moved to the door, closing and locking it, before turning back to Sara.

"So, is that what you think too?"

Sara walked over to Grissom, her arms finding their way around his neck. "Think what?"

"That I'm just a typical male?"

Sara wrinkled her brow, looking up as though she was thinking of an appropriate response. When she was satisfied, she looked back at him. "You're anything but typical, Gil." Grissom smiled at her words, Sara beginning to move away from him. "Dinner's ready, by the way."

Unfortunately for her, she never got the chance to disengage, Grissom's arms encircling her waist, pulling her back to him. "I'd rather take you in the bedroom, if it's all the same to you."

Sara smiled playfully, her arms once again finding their way around his neck. "Tell you what. You at least finish the lasagna, and you can have me for dessert."

Grissom grinned, leaning closer to Sara. Before their lips met, Grissom whispered, desire evident in his voice. "You've got yourself a deal."

_To be continued_


	6. VI

Title: A Wolf at the Door

Author: Spike Speigel

Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.

Spoilers: Everything before Viva Las Vegas. Sequel to _No Surprises_.

Summary: The crime lab gets a wake up call when they become the focal point of a new case. Part VI.

Status: Finished

* * *

Officer Hoyt didn't want to be there. However, given the situation over at the CSI lab, coupled with the fact that a Federal Agent was now on some madman's hit list, and it was the most logical choice. Agent…what was his name? It was like that comic book writer who wrote all those messed up comics. Ennis? Not Ennis. Started with an M. Moore? Morrison? Yeah, Morrison. That sounded right. Agent Morrison had been adamant in refusing a protective detail, but since he was reluctant to bring in the FBI until more concrete evidence was brought to light, Brass had assigned Officer Johns (who was currently at Morrison's side inside the condo) and himself to act like the man's shadow. Always at his side. Hoyt and Johns had been shown the pictures of the maniac's other victims, and being bodyguards for a Fed seemed the best answer for this particular situation.

Hoyt futilely tried to stifle a yawn, but instead emitted a loud, almost baritone sigh, into the car's cabin, stretching his arms instinctively in the process. While he and Johns were no longer in rotation at the department, the new assignment proved to be every bit as challenging. You try following a Fed around for a day and see how much sleep you actually get.

Sleep. He missed sleep. Well, not so much the sleeping as the aspect of sleeping in his own bed. With his new girlfriend. It'd been a great two-month run so far, with Hoyt and his female companion spending less time in the bed sleeping than they did focusing on their physical needs. He missed his bed. Almost as much as he missed the fuzzy handcuffs Amy kept under the bed next to the silk sheets that performed as makeshift restraints. He'd never been a 'kinky' lover, but he was willing to learn if it was this much fun.

The radio squawked into Hoyt's ear, Hoyt stirring from his pleasant thoughts. He grumbled under his breath at being rudely interrupted before making out the garbled static. Apparently Morrison was on the move, Johns indicating to Hoyt to start the car. The car. That was another thing. Since he was out of rotation, he no longer drove in a squad car. Instead, he was stuck playing chauffeur to Special Agent Morrison's Daisy, while Johns and Hoyt sat up front escorting him from place to place. He wouldn't have despised the thought as much, but given the fact he was currently behind the wheel of a civilian vehicle, that meant he had to adhere to the posted speed limits. After all, it wouldn't do well for Hoyt and Johns to get pulled over by one of their own.

He could see the large metal gate to the complex swing open, Morrison and Johns walking side by side toward the vehicle. Johns pulled his parka closer to his body as the rain continued to pour. Hoyt turned on the windshield wipers to discern that Morrison was also donned in a slicker, however from a distance it looked like a common overcoat. As the two men walked into the street, Johns waved at Hoyt, Hoyt reciprocating in kind. His hand moved to the ignition where the key was already nestled inside. A quick flick of the wrist and the engine started. Well, that's what was supposed to happen at any rate. Two weeks in, and Morrison's battery had gone dead? When it rains.

Hoyt gave the ignition another try, this time holding the key at the terminus of the turn, hoping it was just the rain causing grief to the engine. Nothing. No engine groan. No sputtering. Only a click. Just like the last time. Hoyt sighed, resigned to the fact that he was going to be stuck in the rain waiting for a tow truck to get the car. He shook his head slightly at the thought. He'd be damned if he was going to sit in this car for another hour waiting for a tow. It was the rain. That's all. He gave the key another turn, holding longer than the last time.

Unfortunately for Hoyt, he didn't see Morrison running from Officer Johns' side, trying to signal to him to stop what he was doing. Apparently, the click that Hoyt had heard from the inside of the car was also audible to people on the outside as well. It was a click Agent Morrison knew all too well, given his military background. Fortunately for Officer Hoyt, the last thing he heard was the click that sounded like metal popping under stress. He never heard the explosion that ultimately engulfed the vehicle in flames.

* * *

Even though his cell phone began to chime incessantly, it didn't stir him from his slumber. That was impossible for Grissom, simply because he was still awake, never actually falling asleep in the first place. Grissom looked over to his nightstand to see the limelike light pouring from the seams of the phone. His hand moved of its own volition, flipping the phone open as his gaze moved back to its initial position of the ceiling.

"Grissom."

"Gil, it's Jim. Did I wake you?"

Grissom sat upright, his attention focused intently on the call. From the sound of Brass' voice, it sounded important. "No, I was already up. What's up?"

"Need you to get out to Agent Morrison's place as soon as you can."

"What happened?"

There was a slight pause on the other end, Grissom beginning to think that the call had been dropped. However, when he heard the voices in the background, he realized that Brass was no doubt giving orders to the other officers on the scene. After a moment, Brass spoke once more into his cell.

"Your masked man's struck again. From what we can put together, Morrison's car was carrying enough C4 to put a hole in the world. Pretty much did at that."

"Morrison okay?"

"Paramedics just took him away. Superficial cuts and a ringing in his ears that won't let up. Nothing serious. But according to one of the officers assigned to him, the other one was in the car when it went up. Morrison was trying to warn the driver when it went up."

"How did Morrison even know?"

"Dunno. Officer Johns' said from what he could see, Officer Hoyt was having trouble starting the car. Maybe Morrison saw more than just a stalled car."

Grissom was in the process of getting dressed, switching the phone to his other hand while he finished putting his shirt on. "Maybe. I'll be there in a few minutes. Call David. I'll call Sara and Nick."

"Alright. See you in a few."

Grissom didn't even wait for the line to go dead, instead flipping the phone close. He hurriedly placed the phone in his pants pocket as he walked to the bedroom door, picking up his kit in one hand, his jacket in the other. Slinging the jacket into the crook of his arm, Grissom opened the door and walked out into the living room, where he ultimately encountered two rather large men dressed rather casually, sitting in front of the television. One rose from the couch, the other simply turning his head toward Grissom. The one with manners spoke. "Something wrong, Mr. Grissom?"

Grissom's answer was short and to the point. "Unfortunately, yes. Grab your things, officers. We have a crime scene to get to."

* * *

When Catherine first stepped into the hospital room, she thought she had the wrong room number since it was considerably empty. However, since she'd been visiting this room for a little over two weeks, she highly doubted she had the wrong room. But, it was indeed empty, bringing Catherine back to her present quandary. Her eyes swept the room for any indication that Warrick had been here previously, but to no avail. To a passerby, it would just be another empty generic hospital room, complete with over starched linen. But, to her, it was a sign that something was wrong.

Catherine stepped out of the room, looking around until she caught sight of a nurse. Quickly walking up to her, Catherine spoke. "Excuse me, but do you know what happened to the patient in room 236?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Warrick Brown. He's not in his room."

The nurse looked at Catherine quizzically before looking down to her clipboard. Her finger hovered over the paper, moving downward as the nurse looked for the name Warrick or Brown. When the finger stopped, she spoke.

"Warrick Brown. He was released a little over an hour ago."

"What?" While the wound in Warrick's shoulder had pretty much healed up with the aid of extensive surgery, he was still recovering. What was he trying to pull, that idiot? "I'm sorry, but who let him check himself out? He still needs time to recuperate. He can barely move his arm, let alone without being in pain."

"I'm sorry miss. But we've done all we can for him. The rest is up to him. The pain is in his mind, I'm afraid. Physically, he's just as good as he was before he came through those doors. I'm sure Dr. Ramcharan's recommended a good psychiatrist for Mr. Brown."

Catherine nodded, knowing that the nurse was most likely speaking the truth. But, it still didn't make her feel any better that Warrick was missing. What if he'd gotten hurt again? After all, that psycho was still out there. What if Warrick… She didn't want to think about that possibility.

"Well, do you know where he is?"

"I'm afraid not. Sorry. He's most likely gone home by now. Is there anything else I can do?" Catherine shook her head slightly, the nurse nodding as she did so. "In that case, I have some patients to look in on. I'm sure he's okay."

"You're probably right. Thanks." Catherine was about to pull out her cell phone to give Warrick a call, but remembered that they weren't permitted in this wing. Sighing somewhat frustratingly, she began to walk to the nearest exit, her step hastened. However, it retarded as soon as she reached the intersection in the hallway, something catching the corner of her eye. She turned to her left to see Warrick standing all alone in front of a door, a solemn look on his face. Not wanting to make any unnecessary noise by raising her voice to call out to him, she instead walked toward her friend, stopping near his side. "Warrick?"

"This shouldn't be happening." Catherine finally realized where she was standing, feeling somewhat uneasy that the rooms were beginning to become familiar to her based on the amount of time she seemed to be spending within the confines of this particular building.

"I know, honey. None of this should be happening." She was about to touch his arm, but thought better of it once she noticed the sling. "Doctors say he isn't ready for visitors yet. Of all of us, he took the worst of it."

"So far, you mean." Warrick turned his gaze to the floor, no longer wanting to see Greg in his current state. "So, how bad is it?"

Her first instinct was to lie to him, change the subject, just get him the hell out of this place, but she knew better. Warrick was the type of person that needed the truth. So, with a deep breath, she gave it to him.

"It's pretty bad. There's swelling; his brain is pressed against his skull right now. The doctors relieved the pressure, but right now there's nothing we can do but wait. Only Greg can decide when he wants to get up."

"And Robbins?" Even though Warrick was trying to remain steady; strong, Catherine could hear his voice beginning to waver. "His room's empty."

"Yeah. Al checked out about a week ago. He's on paid leave. Took his wife and went to visit his daughter. He tried to get back to work, but he's still too close to what happened to him." Warrick nodded as Catherine hesitated, looking over Warrick to decide whether or not to broach the subject of his taking time off as well. She decided to risk it. "C'mon. The officers are outside waiting for us. We'll take you home."

Warrick raised his head once more, shaking it vehemently, a look of determination on his face. "No. I need to get back to work."

"Warrick, I understand what you're trying to do, but…"

"But what?" He turned his head, now looking directly at Catherine, his voice rising in volume. "Robbins deserves better! Greg deserves better! And I'm not gonna…I'm not…" Try as he might, he couldn't keep up the charade any longer, his emotions pouring out as well as the tears. "I can't…I can't…"

Catherine's arm gently encircled Warrick's waist, pulling him closer to her, her hand caressing his head as he found solace in the crook of her neck, the tears continuing. "It's okay. Shh." Neither noticed the onlookers in the hallway, both together yet alone all at once. Catherine was near the verge of tears herself as she placed a soft kiss against Warrick's cheek.

"It's okay. I've got you."

* * *

Sara could see Grissom talking to Nick and David once her car finally stopped outside the taped off section of the street, undoubtedly waiting for her. Sara grabbed her kit from beside her, her hand reaching for the door handle. However, before she could, the car door swung open, Officer Stevens holding it for her. Sara smiled politely, thinking that she was beginning to hate being under escort, as she got out of the vehicle. Standing next to the officer, she spoke.

"Thanks, Bill." She peered back into the vehicle, waving to Officer Rodriguez, before making her way toward Grissom and the others.

It had already been two weeks since the nightshift had been placed under lock and key per Ecklie's request. Two weeks with having strangers in her apartment. Two weeks with having two extra shadows accompanying her own God given one. Two weeks without being alone with Grissom. The only time they seemed to talk now was either at work or on the phone. But even then, their conversations weren't as intimate as they had previously grown to be, simply because even on the phone, they weren't alone, not when you're within earshot of two very physically imposing men.

Sara sighed as she finally reached Grissom, thinking to herself that the newfound distance between them was only temporary. Things would go back to normal once they got this maniac off the streets for good. At least, that's what she hoped. "Hey, sorry to keep you waiting."

She meant the comment to be directed toward Grissom, but Nick spoke, interrupting a now rare moment the two had. "Don't worry. We just got here a few minutes ago."

Sara nodded curtly at Nick before turning toward Grissom. Unfortunately for her, Grissom was now invested in the crime scene, his eyes darting about the depressed area of roadway.

"Nick, Sara, see if you can pull anything out of this crater; ignition device if you can. Also keep an eye out for an unmarked envelope. For all we know, this might not even be related to our perp. David, you're with me."

David spoke, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Me? Wh…why?"

"To aid me in deducing where our blast point originated from."

"And, how am I going to be of any help?" Grissom finally turned his attention away from the blast site, an eyebrow slightly raised as he looked at David. "I mean, I'm just a coroner."

"Because your knowledge of anatomy is substantially stronger than mine."

David nodded, finally understanding what Grissom was getting at. "Do you really think there's enough of Officer Hoyt in this rubble to effort a reconstruction?"

"I guess we're about to find out." He never looked at Nick or Sara, instead opening his kit to start processing.

Nick and Sara gave Grissom a final look before looking at each other, Nick motioning with his head. "You first."

Sara mock smiled, watching her footing as she entered the hole. "You're a true gentleman, Nick." Her reward was a small chuckle from Nick as he began to follow her into the crater. Sara quickly looked back, wondering if Grissom was looking at her as though this separation was as hard on him as it was for her. Unfortunately, all she saw was Grissom holding up what looked like a portion of clavicle bone, David nodding as he wrote feverishly into a notepad. She frowned slightly, turning back to Nick.

"Let's see if we can find what punched a hole in the world."

* * *

There was just no getting around it. Even though he was one of the more powerful individuals in Las Vegas, even the U.S. Postal Service managed to worm its way into his inner sanctum. To tell the truth, he wouldn't mind it if it wasn't for the fact that even he got junk mail. Sam Braun. Did the Postmaster General not know who he was? Braun tossed the stack of mail on his desk, thinking that even the POTUS didn't have to put up with flyers. And he made less than Braun did. What was the world coming to?

Braun sat back into his leather chair, his eyes skimming the video monitors situated on the wall adjacent to his desk. However, his eyes stopped upon reaching the monitors in the lower left, recently installed based on the haphazard wiring strewn about them. He had made a promise to his little girl, to look after Lindsey and his ex-wife, and he intended to hold true to said promise.

However, since Catherine had made it abundantly clear that she didn't want him a) upsetting his ex and b) not telling Lindsey that he was her grandfather, he decided this was the best solution. Both were guests in one of Braun's more lavish hotel rooms, with electronic eyes concealed therein. Just enough to keep an eye on them yet allow them sufficient privacy. Add to that a bodyguard stationed outside the room at all times and Braun felt that he was keeping up with his end of the bargain. Hell, his ex even managed something of a smile upon seeing the accommodations he'd laid out for herself and Lindsey. Braun grinned, remembering why he'd married her in the first place. They hadn't all been bad times, after all.

The sudden shrill tone of the phone pulled Braun from his thoughts, Braun grimacing slightly as he picked up the receiver, ceasing the incessant ringing. "Braun."

He'd expected it to be one of his pit bosses or someone along those lines; someone familiar. Unfortunately, it was a voice that was very foreign to him. His first clue was the jovial tone on the other end. Everyone that Braun knew had a hint of fear in their voices when they spoke to him. But not this guy. "Hello, Sam. How's the view from up there? Absolutely breathtaking, I'd wager."

"Who is this?"

"Nobody of consequence."

Braun's tone was beginning to border on angry, his hand clenching the receiver more tightly. "Look fella. I don't know who you are and I don't care. Unless you've got something to say to me, I'm hanging up."

"Oh, Sam. I'm deeply hurt. After all the trouble I went through to get your granddaughter closer to you."

And just like that, the voice now had Braun's complete and undivided attention. "So, you're the animal that put my girls in harm's way." A slight chuckle was Braun's answer. "Well, you may be having your way now, but this is my city fella. I'm gonna find you sooner or later. And trust me, you do not want me to find you."

There was a slight pause on the other end, Braun smiling at the thought that he had finally instilled some fear into the person on the other end of the phone. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Far from it, based on the voice's retort.

"Yes, Sam. I know you've sent your bloodhounds to rustle me out of my cave. But, I'm afraid you're wasting your time. I won't be found unless I want to be. And, to tell the truth, I'm not ready to come out, so to speak."

"Well, that isn't your choice, boy. 'Cause the way things work around here, I want something done. It gets done. And right now, I want you. So, to tell you the truth, you have no say in the matter."

Braun's reward was another small chuckle before the voice spoke once more. "Yes! That's the Sam Braun I've read about. Take no crap from anyone and all the other witticisms fit to print. You're a remarkable man, Sam. You truly are."

A lesser individual would have accepted the compliment, but not Sam Braun. He was all business at this point, especially since said business pertained to the well-being of his little girl. "You going somewhere with this?"

"Let me ask you something, Sam. Do you think you're a powerful man?"

"What?"

"Simple question, Sam. Do you think you're a powerful man?"

Becoming weary at the direction the conversation had suddenly taken, Braun answered, quick and to the point. "Yes."

"As I thought. And after all, why shouldn't you think so? I'd bet you identify with the line, 'The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away', don't you? But, if you'll allow, just one more question, and then I'll end this conversation. Put you out of your misery, yes?"

"Your dime."

"Tell me, Sam. Are you powerful enough to stop a bullet?"

"Wha…"

Braun never heard the bullet as it shattered the windowpane behind him. He also never felt the bullet puncture the back of his skull. The last thing Sam Braun thought before his head hit the marble desk was the horrible way he'd kill the bastard that even dared to hurt his little girl.

His Catherine.

* * *

From where she was standing, she could see that Grissom was alone in his office, mulling over the data he and David collected from Morrison's car bomb. Sara gently tapped her thigh with the folder in her hand, deciding whether or not to bother him since he seemed so preoccupied. Yes, she wanted to talk to him. Yes, she missed him. And, yes, the folder in her hand pertained to the make of the bomb attached to Morrison's car. But even so, she wasn't sure if she should tell him now or not.

"What's on your mind, Sara?"

Grissom looked up from the papers on his desk, an almost haggard expression greeting Sara. Well, at least she didn't have to worry about bothering him anymore. She stepped into his office, sitting across from him as she placed the folder on a less crowded area of his desk. "Nick and I found traces of cyclotrimethylene-trinitramine all about the blast site."

"C-4?"

Sara nodded as Grissom flipped open the manila folder. "We also recovered what looks like the remains of a blasting cap. Our guess is the detonator cord was wired to the ignition. Once the car started…"

"It supplied the cap with enough energy to finish the job." Sara nodded, Grissom flipping through the report. "Anything else?"

Well, he asked, Sara thought as she answered. "I miss you."

Grissom looked up from the report, a perplexed look on his face. "What?"

"I miss you. It's been over two weeks since we've been together. I just thought you'd want to know, is all."

Grissom shook his head slightly, finally understanding what Sara was trying to say. "I'm sorry, Sara. I miss you too."

"Then let's tell everyone about us so we won't have to be apart anymore. I hate being alone in my place with strangers. I'd be happier if I were with you…with strangers. You know what I'm saying, right?"

"Trust me, I don't like this arrangement any more than you do. But now isn't the right time to focus on this. After we've closed this case, then I'll do whatever you want. But, for now…"

Sara nodded, realizing that Grissom was probably right, even though it pained her since it meant going back to her place instead of his tonight. "Yeah, you're right. But it doesn't change the fact that I miss you. I miss us."

Grissom managed a weak smile. "I…" Unfortunately for both parties, that's as far as he got, the reason for his abrupt hesitation standing in his doorway. "Conrad?"

Ecklie observed Grissom and Sara for a moment before turning his attention to Grissom. "Get your things. You've got a DB over at the Rampart."

Sara spoke, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Has the body been identified?"

Ecklie nodded, somewhat annoyed that Sara had made herself a part of the conversation. "Sam Braun."

The look of shock was evident on both Grissom's and Sara's faces, Grissom collecting himself before rising from his seat. "Sara, you're with me. Grab your kit."

"Don't bother. I need Sidle in the lab to help Stokes finish processing the Morrison evidence." Ecklie didn't have to speak, Grissom already knowing what he was going to say. "I called Catherine. She'll meet you over there."

Grissom walked past Sara, disdain in his voice as he pushed past Ecklie. "Dammit, Conrad."

Sara continued to look on, slightly perplexed to Grissom's reaction. As Grissom began to disappear in the sea of lab technicians, Ecklie spoke, a hint of confusion in his voice. "What?"

Sara seconded the sentiment.

* * *

By some miracle, Grissom had made it to the Rampart before Catherine. When the elevator door to Braun's penthouse opened fully, he stepped out, Brass waiting for him.

"Hell of a thing, huh?"

Grissom nodded, staring at Braun's lifeless body, as it remained seated behind his desk. It was almost as though he was taking a nap, but the puddle of blood belied that supposition. His gaze then moved to the windowpane behind Braun, the frayed bullet hole catching his attention.

"He was shot from distance?"

Brass nodded. "Got men in the adjacent buildings. Might be something, but the way this guy works, I'm not holding my breath." Brass paused, reaching for a plastic bag on top of Braun's desk, holding it out for Grissom. "And before you ask why I assume it's our mysterious assailant, I found this while rummaging through Braun's mail." Grissom took the bag from Brass, holding it up to the light as he read the typeface on the envelope.

**GLIB SLY BOHR**

**See you soon, Sherlock.**

"So, what do you make of it?"

Grissom shook his head, his voice pensive. "I think this envelope was meant for me." There was that word again. Sherlock. The voice had called him that during their first conversation when Robbins had been discovered in the morgue. And once more, with Braun. It couldn't be coincidence. Could it?

Brass was about to ask why Grissom meant, but never got the chance, what with the elevator doors opening once more, Catherine stepping out into the penthouse, her eyes already watering.

"Oh, God. No."

Grissom and Brass as well as the other officers on the floor turned their attention to Catherine as she began to run toward Braun's corpse. Grissom acted quickly, stepping in between Catherine and Braun.

"Catherine."

Her fists came crashing down on Grissom's chest as she lost herself, tears now streaming down her face. "No, I have to see him! Get out of my way!" Her pounding became less intense, Catherine collapsing into Grissom's arms. Brass solemnly lowered his head while Grissom pulled Catherine closer to him. "I need to see him. I need…" She continued to sob into his chest, Grissom looking over her shoulder at the envelope still in his hand, his voice filled with grief.

"It's okay, Catherine. I've got you."

_To be continued_


End file.
